


me after you (think i've found the perfect love)

by cherryhwa



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Producer Hongjoong, This is just a mess of clichés, amusement park dates, forehead kisses !!!, get ready for Cheesiness !, hongjoong gets drunk like once, kdrama type confessions, kim hongjoong is a cynic, noodles aren't just a food they're a lifestyle, practice safe sex kids, scarily real dreams ?? ohohoho, seonghwa has an oppa kink haha loser, sex that's both soft AND hot, side woosang/jongsan/yungi, slow burn ????, they're in love okay, ugh yes we love the duality, waiter and artist seonghwa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryhwa/pseuds/cherryhwa
Summary: kim hongjoong is a producer who's been asked to write a love song. the problem is, all of his relationships have failed spectacularly, and he's given up hope of ever finding love again.then, he meets park seonghwa, a hot waiter with an adorable smile and paint on his hands, and suddenly love doesn't seem like such a hopeless cause anymore.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 30
Kudos: 234





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello ! it is i , your least favorite writiny :)
> 
> fun fact: this fic has been in progress since august ! i kept putting it back and writing other stuff but i'm finally going to finish it because why not (aka procrastination squad pull up)
> 
> hongjoong and seonghwa are definitely one of my favorite dynamics to write , and i may have projected a lot of my feelings about love and general personality onto hongjoong as like kind of a feelings dump . (sorry to our favorite blueberry leader) .
> 
> but anyways ! i sincerely hope you enjoy reading this :)
> 
> \- title from paul kim's 'me after you' (also self-indulgent side note: GO STREAM YEOSANG'S COVER OF THIS , AS A CUTE DOLL ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITE COVERS EVER)

The thing is, Hongjoong doesn’t write love songs.

He thought he’d made this very clear to the many artists he’s worked with. That if they’re looking for a song that would encompass how much they loved someone or wanted to love someone, he is _not_ the guy for the job.

And to be fair, Jongho is a new artist under KQ Entertainment, and he supposes he shouldn’t get mad at the younger man, who has quite literally just met him and is staring at him with big brown doe eyes that Hongjoong is finding very hard to resist.

He spins in his chair side to side, eyeing the young aspiring singer. “So,” he takes a deep breath, “let me get this straight. You want me to help you write a love song for your debut album.”

“It’s not the title track.” Yunho, Jongho’s manager, adds quickly. Yunho is one of the many people well aware of Hongjoong’s love song-aversion, and Hongjoong is rather surprised he even let Jongho try. “It’s only going to be a B-side, and Jongho insisted on having a love song on the album.”

The producer sighs, rubbing his temple. He can see Yunho grimacing, probably about to suggest that Jongho make a run for it in three seconds because Hongjoong is about to-

“Hongjoong-ssi.” Jongho starts. He’s biting his lip, hands folded in front of him like a child waiting to be scolded. “I-“

“Don’t call me that, you’re gonna make me feel old.” Hongjoong waves a hand wearily. “Just call me Hongjoong.”

Jongho nods slowly. If Hongjoong’s memory serves him correctly (it often doesn’t), Jongho is 23, and was literally just marked as a new debut three weeks ago. Hongjoong is already considering adopting him as one of his many children in the company if they can get through this love song bullshit first.

“I want a song on my album that talks about love because,” Jongho looks at Yunho, who nods, “I have a partner that I love a lot and I want to write a song for him. Yunho-hyung said you’re the best songwriter in the industry right now, so I really want to work with you.”

God damnit. Yunho must’ve told Jongho to say that to just inflate Hongjoong’s ego, and hell, it’s working. He sighs, looking up at the soundproof foam-covered ceiling. There’s a piece falling off, and distantly Hongjoong wonders if sound filters through that one hole.

Yunho sighs as well (although much heavier than Hongjoong’s) and pats Jongho’s back. “It’s alright, Jongho. Hongjoong just, he doesn’t like writing love songs. I’m sure that we can find someone else, okay? You have vocal lessons now, go meet up with Yeosang and I’ll be over there soon.”

The younger man nods and bows to Hongjoong, who acknowledges it with another listless hand wave. When the door closes behind Jongho, Hongjoong refuses to look at the other. He can feel Yunho’s judgmental gaze on him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Hongjoong grumbles, playing with the cord attached to the headphones around his neck. “Didn’t you tell the kid?”

Yunho shakes his head. “Well, I tried to. But he really wants to work with you, Hongjoong. I’m sure you could write up something.”

It’s not so much that Hongjoong hates love songs. It’s just that he isn’t very lucky when it comes to relationships, with a total of three failed relationships and one broken engagement under his belt at 27 (he thinks he should really get an award for that one). 

So with that in mind, no, he is not very good at writing about a feeling that has led to heartbreak more than once, especially writing about it in a positive light.

“All of my exes and my ex-fiancee would beg to differ.” Hongjoong shrugs and Yunho sighs yet again. 

“Hongjoong, really, just try it? I’ll even get them to pay you more if you help him.” Yunho begs, but Hongjoong just raises an eyebrow at the other man.

“Why don’t you help him? You’re literally married.” Hongjoong gestures to the ring on Yunho’s left hand.

At that, Yunho blushes. Internally, Hongjoong rolls his eyes. He didn’t even mention Mingi, Yunho’s husband, and the blond haired man has already gone soft.

“I don’t write music, hyung.” Yunho says, coming closer to ruffle Hongjoong’s faded blue hair. Hongjoong whines, pushing the other man’s hands away. “However, you do. And my Jongho really wants to work with you. Shouldn’t that be a source of pride?”

“‘My Jongho’,” Hongjoong snorts. “What, you and Mingi gonna adopt him?”

Yunho rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, Hongjoong. I’m really proud of him, he works hard. I think he wants to prove that to his boyfriend. I know they had some issues regarding his debut.”

“Guilt-trip.” Hongjoong jokes, but stops laughing when the taller man glares at him.

Before Yunho can get a word in though, the studio door bangs open again, followed by yelling.

“Hongjoong!” A grinning lilac haired man pounces on Yunho, hugging him from behind. “Yunho-yahh!”

“Wooyoung.” Yunho complains, trying to push the other off of him. That only serves to make the shorter man cling to him more.

“You guys wanna go out with me and Sang-ie? We’re gonna go out to eat after he finishes vocal lessons!” Wooyoung is a choreographer at KQ, and he’s dating Yeosang, a rather successful soloist also under KQ. Honestly, Hongjoong has no idea how they got together, what with Wooyoung’s loudmouth and Yeosang’s quiet, shy demeanor.

“Also Mingi’s already going too so you have to go.” Wooyoung adds, jabbing Yunho’s chest. Yunho just shrugs, nodding. Of course Wooyoung got Mingi to go. They were both choreographers at KQ, and since Wooyoung had been there longer than Mingi (by four months) he could easily rope the other into his plans using his ‘senior’ status.

“Nope.” Hongjoong says, turning around to power his monitors back on. “You guys have fun.”

“Boo, Hongjoong sucks.” Wooyoung sticks his tongue out. “Come on! When was the last time the five of us hung out?“

“Last time we ‘hung out’, Yeosang got mobbed.” Hongjoong says dryly, turning around and wincing as he remembers getting pushed around once people recognized the soloist. They were only able to escape when Yunho called Yeosang’s manager to pick them up.

But it wasn’t the Yeosang thing that was deterring him. He just really doesn’t want to go out, and plus he has so much work to finish-

“I told Sang-ie we won’t let that happen again.” Wooyoung says. He actually sounds serious. For a minute, Hongjoong wishes he had a boyfriend like Wooyoung, but then he pushes that thought out quickly because Wooyoung is fucking annoying and Yeosang is a goddamn saint for putting up with him.

Yunho rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, we can always just book it if he gets recognized again.”

“Yeah!” Wooyoung gives puppy-dog eyes to Hongjoong. “Come onnn, don’t be an ahjussi! Just because you’re two years older than us doesn’t mean you can’t run with us kids.”

“Yah, you little-“ Hongjoong starts, but slides back in his chair in defeat. “Fine. As long as we get to go to that noodle place across the street.”

“Works for me!” Wooyoung chirps, before kissing Yunho on the cheek (to which Yunho makes an aborted sound of disgust) and skipping out of the studio, probably going to the vocal practice room to annoy Yeosang and Jongho.

Hongjoong laughs at Yunho’s disgusted face wiping Wooyoung’s spit off his cheek. 

“Don’t tell Mingi.” He jokes, to which Yunho glares at him.

“Shut up.” Yunho huffs. “Anyways, you better show up, hyung.”

“You kids just want someone to drive you home.” Hongjoong chides, but he grins. “Don’t worry, son, I’ll be there.”

Yunho smacks him on the shoulder.

\------

“The old man came!” Wooyoung cheers as Hongjoong steps out of the building.

He glares at his friends, who are standing together by the curb wearing shit-eating grins. Momentarily, Hongjoong thinks about calling it a day and going home to overthink his aging process.

“You all suck. You should be grateful.” He scolds as he joins them. It’s a hot August summer night, and Hongjoong immediately mourns the air-conditioning in the company building.

“You love us, Hongjoong. We’re a blessing.” Mingi, the choreographer whose height Hongjoong curses, is smiling widely, as if daring the producer to refute.

“In your dreams, Mingi.” He shoots back, to which the taller man pouts and leans into Yunho’s shoulder. Yunho smiles at him fondly, ruffling his faded red hair.

Hongjoong’s painfully aware that he’s the Token Single of the group. Ever since his engagement got broken off two years ago, that’s been his unofficial title. There’s Yeosang and Wooyoung, who are holding hands, and Yeosang’s head is tucked into Wooyoung’s neck. Yunho and Mingi are currently giving each other butterfly kisses (gross) and Hongjoong’s got…his bag???

He hugs the messenger bag tighter to his chest.

“So are we going?” Yeosang asks. His voice is muffled by the black facemask he’s wearing, and his wavy brown hair is poking out from beneath a black beanie. Hongjoong feels bad for the poor man who has to hide his identity in fear of getting mobbed again.

“Yep!” Wooyoung yanks his boyfriend towards the stoplight, so he can press the button to walk across the street. Yeosang lets out a little _oomph_.

Hongjoong is doing his best to Be Part of the Group, but it’s hard when he’s trying to talk to Yunho about the new procedures for songwriting at the company while Mingi is holding Yunho’s hand and stealing little kisses here and there. And Yeosang and Wooyoung listen to Hongjoong rant about some of the other snarky new debuts, but he doesn’t miss the way Wooyoung’s thumb rubs the side of Yeosang’s palm.

God, he hates being single, even though it’s been his lifestyle for two years now. Ever since he and Woohyun broke off their engagement, Hongjoong’s been floating in a sort of limbo of wanting to date and just not wanting to ever try again. But he leans more towards the “wanting to date” side whenever he’s with his friends. Screw them for being all touchy and clingy.

“Welcome!” A waitress welcomes them as they enter the restaurant, and they sit near the back by the kitchen, tucking Yeosang into a corner so he would be shielded by Wooyoung’s body. Hongjoong sits on the end of the other side, allowing Yunho and Mingi to sit together and be a couple. Ew. 

“What are you getting?” Yunho asks him as he opens the menu.

“Jjajangmyeon, probably.” Hongjoong leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And soju.”

“Wait, we were naming you designated driver!” Wooyoung pouts.

“Oh well.” Hongjoong grins. “Guess you’re gonna have to get a taxi.”

“Ughhhhh! Kim Hongjooooong!”

Hongjoong is still smiling in sweet victory when a voice breaks their conversation. “Hello?”

And he turns to look and okay, he’s definitely never seen this waiter before.

He frequents this noodle place much more than the rest of them, what with working long hours at the studio with no time to go home and eat a proper meal. Which means he knows a lot of the staff, from Soobin, one of the line cooks, to Jinsoul, a waitress who teases him about his diet of noodle bowls nearly every day.

Hongjoong has never seen this man. How does he know? Because he certainly would remember someone so fucking gorgeous.

The waiter is staring at them quizzically, probably because of their bickering. “Are you guys ready to order?” He asks. Hongjoong’s too busy staring at him to even respond and usually he’s the Responsible One of the group.

It’s the restaurant designated uniform, black collared shirt with black pants and a red apron, but Hongjoong is partly convinced this guy just came from a fashion runway or something. He has ash grey hair that falls in front of pretty brown eyes and a hesitant smile on pink lips that Hongjoong absolutely is not staring at. How has he never seen this man before?

“Yeah!” Mingi smiles at the waiter and Hongjoong is wondering how Mingi isn’t completely intimidated by the attractiveness of this man, because fuck, he sure is. “Uh, hyung?”

Hyung, hyung...oh yeah that’s him. “Huh?” He says intelligently, and he thinks he hears Wooyoung and Yeosang snicker.

“What are you going to order?” Mingi repeats and silently, Hongjoong thanks Mingi for being a real one in this time of hardship. 

“Oh yeah, uhm I’ll have…” He looks down at the menu in a faux sense of recollection and then looks back up, trying to maintain eye contact with the hot waiter. “The jjajangmyeon?”

Yunho snorts. Hongjoong wants to send all of his friends to an early grave.

“Sure.” The waiter smiles and Hongjoong is going to keel over in this fucking restaurant because this waiter has the cutest fucking smile he’s ever seen in his life. He half looks like he’s in pain, but it’s so adorable that Hongjoong feels like crawling under the table and screaming. “Anything else?”

“Soju!” Wooyoung pipes up. “And give him lots.” He winks and Hongjoong kicks him under the table. Unfortunately, he hits Yeosang instead, and the brown haired man yelps.

“Uh, alright.” The waiter smiles again, writing it down on a tiny notepad. There’s smudges of pink and white paint on his hands, and Hongjoong wonders if he’s an artist.

(Not like he cares or anything.) 

The rest of them order, and the waiter bows before disappearing into the kitchen. As soon as he’s out of sight, Wooyoung flicks Hongjoong’s arm.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“You have a cru-ush~” Wooyoung sings, giggling. “Hey, if you don’t want him, I’ll take him. He’s hot.”

Yeosang huffs from beneath his mask. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“Wait, Sang-ie, no, I’m kidding!” Wooyoung whines, and starts peppering Yeosang’s exposed face with kisses. “I looove you.”

“I’m done with dating.” Hongjoong says, ignoring the spectacle in the corner. “Not interested.”

“Are you sure?” Yunho asks. “You were all googly-eyed at him, I’m surprised he wasn’t creeped out.”

“He probably was, he’s just too nice to say anything.” Hongjoong mutters.

“There was mutual affection, I could feel it.” Wooyoung seems to have placated Yeosang, because now they’re cuddling right there. Right in front of Hongjoong’s metaphorical salad. Gross.

“Shut up, Woo.” 

“Seriously!” Wooyoung defends himself. “The look in his eyes was so soft when he looked at hyung, like have you ever seen melted chocolate?”

“Dude, what the fuck.” 

“Do you just look at melted chocolate in your spare time?” Mingi snorts.

“Mingi, fuck you. Seriously, Hongjoong, we can tell, he likes you. You should try dating again, see how it goes.”

“Wooyoung, my dating life has been a dumpster fire and a half.” Hongjoong sighs, resting his head on his upturned palm. “I’m done. I’m tired of it.”

It’s partly true. As previously stated, Hongjoong wobbles in and out of limbo, dating or no dating. Lately, he’s been in the no-dating realm, but when he’s with his friends, his loneliness expands tenfold. But who would want to even try again after four failed relationships?

The first relationship, well, it was his first. It was his first date after coming out of the closet, with a relatively nice guy who just ended up cheating on him after eight months. It took a while for him to recover from that.

The second relationship was a mistake, and in hindsight, wasn’t even a relationship. Hongjoong, in desperation to actually feel _wanted_ again, hooked up with a random guy at a club who just ended up using him for booty calls that Hongjoong unfortunately answered. The toxic cycle was broken once the guy found a new toy.

The third relationship was a setup by Yunho. The guy had been really nice, and sweet after learning Hongjoong’s broken relationship past, and Hongjoong had actually sincerely enjoyed that year. Until Hongjoong moved in with him, and learned that he was the messiest and most careless person in the world. Eventually their relationship dissolved into arguments and fights that Hongjoong cringes thinking about now.

The fourth one, well. The fourth relationship was, you could say, the farthest he’d ever gotten. Woohyun and him had met at a mutual friend gathering, and immediately hit it off. They had a steady relationship for two and a half years. At the two year mark, Hongjoong proposed, but they never got married.

Woohyun had insisted Hongjoong worked too much, never spent time with him anymore, and was always sleeping at home. Which, he has to admit, was true. Their relationship began to deteriorate, both men cranky constantly and getting on each other’s nerves, before they decided to break off the engagement.

Hongjoong sold the ring, and continued on with his life.

Well, kind of.

“I just want you to be happy.” Wooyoung pouts, cocking his head with all the innocence of a puppy looking at its owner. “You rarely go out anymore, this is like a once-in-a-lifetime thing we’re doing here. And when was the last time you went on a date?”

Hongjoong hasn’t been on a single date since Woohyun.

“Working overtime all the time is unhealthy too.” Yunho adds, reaching behind to rub Hongjoong’s back. “You have to get better habits.”

“What are you guys, my moms?” Hongjoong jokes, but the four others just stare at him. He gets it, they care about him, but Hongjoong’s the type that hisses and yowls like an annoyed cat when people try to take care of him. He hates it, feeling like he has to be cared for.

“Yeah I’m your mom.” Wooyoung smirks at him. “Go upstairs and get your homework done, young man.”

“Gross. I want a new mom.” Hongjoong huffs, snickering at the way Wooyoung gasps like he’s been shot.

“How dare you-”

“Anyways!” Yeosang smacks a hand over Wooyoung’s mouth. “The waiter’s interested in you, hyung. Give it a shot, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Rejection.” Hongjoong says immediately. “Or worse, I get to sell off another wedding ring.”

“You’re so optimistic.” Mingi mutters.

“I know right?” Hongjoong turns to look at his dongsaeng with a fake bright smile.

“He’s coming!” Wooyoung hisses. “Quick, everyone act normal!”

“What were we doing before?” Yunho mumbles, before the entire table is collectively hushed.

“Here are your drinks.” The cute waiter is back, and Hongjoong ignores his friends’ giggles as he not-so-discreetly takes looks at him. God, are they back in high school?

He really is attractive, and Hongjoong is quite aware that he probably looks like a gaping fish desperate for air staring at him. But what dignity does he have at this point, honestly?

Also, apparently his dignity is gone to the point where ice-cold water splashing on his lap doesn’t phase him.

“Hyung!” Yunho is shaking him. Only then does he register the wetness on his jeans and the horrified faces of his friends and the extremely cute waiter.

“Are you okay?” The waiter is speaking in this extremely soft voice that makes Hongjoong want to melt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m fine.” He manages to get out, because he can’t even be an asshole about it due to his kindness complex and plus the waiter’s eyes are big and honestly, Hongjoong could never even say no to him. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

He ignores the snickering of his friends and gets up, steeling himself to walk past the waiter and towards the back.

Once he’s inside, he waves a hand underneath the paper towel dispenser and-

It’s empty.

Well, this was surely shaping up to be a great day.

First, the hot waiter. Second, his friends embarrassing him in front of said hot waiter. Third, no paper towels to save his dignity when water was spilled on him by the hot waiter.

He spins back towards the door, ready to just suck it up and deal with it, when it swings open again. Hongjoong stumbles backwards.

Oh God, it’s him.

The waiter is standing there, with a bundle of paper towels in his pink stained hands. “I know we ran out,” he says in that soft yet kind of sexy voice that has Hongjoong’s head reeling, “and I haven’t had time to come fill it up, so here. And, uh, I’m sorry again.” 

He extends the stack out to Hongjoong, who slowly reaches out as if caught in a trance. Their hands brush when Hongjoong takes the paper towels, and it takes everything in him not to latch onto his hand because, hey, he’s touch-starved okay?

The waiter bows to him, and turns to leave.

Now Hongjoong doesn’t pride himself on making good decisions. See above: eating noodles every day, working himself to death, being friends with the four idiots sitting out there waiting to tease him like hell. So in a burst of confidence, he exclaims, “Hey!”

The waiter turns around, tilting his head like a confused puppy. Oh Lord, this man is not good for Hongjoong’s already-shitty health.

“Yes?”

“Oh. Uh. Er.” Hongjoong says eloquently. 

“Are you okay?” The waiter asks, in that Voice.

“What’s your name?” Hongjoong rushes out. Then, realizing how weird that might sound, he backpedals. “Not to be weird or anything! But like I know a lot of people here and I’ve never seen you around before? Wait that sounds worse, uh-”

The waiter chuckles, a hand over his mouth as he laughs at Hongjoong’s failed attempts at Talking Like A Normal Human Being. God, Hongjoong wishes the earth would swallow him whole.

“Seonghwa.” The waiter says, smiling that insanely adorable smile with his teeth showing and his lips pulled up. “My name is Seonghwa.”

When the door shuts behind him, Hongjoong stares at it, hands limply holding the paper towels at his side.

Damn. He’s going to need a lot of soju after this.

\------

_It’s warm, and there’s a body pressed against his back, trapping him in. The room he’s in is unfamiliar, with white walls and blurry pictures pinned to wall grids and little plants. The sun is streaming in through a open window, framed by a flowy white curtain._

_“Mm, Joong.” A voice murmurs, taking him out of his reverie. He turns around and kisses a pair of puffy pink lips, smiling._

_“Good morning, love.”_

_“Don’t wanna get up.” The voice is deep and gravelly, a morning voice that sends shivers down Hongjoong’s spine. “Wanna stay in bed with you.”_

_“I have work, and you have a project.” Hongjoong laughs quietly, closing his eyes and snuggling into the person’s chest. “Come on, get up.”_

_The person’s hands come to wrap around Hongjoong’s exposed waist, pulling him closer. “Or we could just make out all day. You owe me.”_

_“I owe you?” Hongjoong says incredulously. “We’re bargaining kisses now?”_

_“Mhm.” He’s pulled up and he opens his eyes to see a man with ash grey hair and melted chocolate eyes, smiling at him. “As your husband, I think you owe me a lot more.”_

Hongjoong shoots up, gasping for air. He stares at the end of his bed, placing a hand over his heart to calm the erratic beating. His apartment is dark, and the digital clock besides his bed is flashing 4:00 AM.

He grabs his phone, mind racing, dialing a familiar number.

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s sleepy voice comes from the other end. “It’s four AM, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Hongjoong exclaims a little too quickly. “Just,” he exhales.

“Hongjoong? Are you okay? Seriously-”

“Tell Jongho I’ll help him write the song.”

Yunho is so quiet, Hongjoong thinks for a second he hung up.

“Yunho?”  
  


“Uh. Yeah, hyung, I can do that. Why, what happened-”

“Not important! Just tell him I’ll do it!”

“Uh. Okay.” Yunho’s voice is laced with sleep, and he sounds confused. “Can’t really do that now, but I’ll tell him tomorrow…?”

“Great!” Hongjoong says. He’s not sure why his voice has gone up like three octaves, it’s fine.

“Is...that all?” Yunho asks hesitantly. 

“Yup! See you tomorrow! Thanks Yunho!” Hongjoong hastily hangs up, and throws his phone onto his nightstand.

After he resets his alarm and rolls over in bed, he tries to fall back asleep. But his mind is muddled with thoughts of ash grey hair and melted chocolate eyes and kind smiles and one name.

_Seonghwa_.

Hongjoong is so fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

When Hongjoong walks into the building the next day, Yunho is already hounding him.

“Hyung, are you okay?” He asks worriedly, trailing behind Hongjoong as he makes his way to his studio.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” Hongjoong unlocks the door, walking inside. Yunho follows.

“You called me at four AM, hyung, I was so worried, I was convinced you were like, dying-”

“I’m alive aren’t I?” Hongjoong cuts him off. “I’m fine, Yunho.”

“Why did you suddenly agree to help Jongho?” Yunho sits on the arm of the worn grey couch in the studio. “You were so adamant about ‘no love songs’, what happened?”

Hongjoong sets his bag down on his swivel chair, turning to face the confused manager. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Wooyoung.” Truthfully, he considers Yunho his best friend, and if anything, Yunho will always be the first to hear this kind of stuff.

“You know I can’t do that, but okay.” Yunho shrugs.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “I had a dream.” He starts.

“Cool?” Yunho tilts his head. “Don’t know what that has to do with-”

“I had a dream about Seonghwa.” Hongjoong says, quieter, like if he says it any louder it’ll be solidified that there are Emotions and Feelings that Hongjoong doesn’t want to name swirling around in his head.

“Seonghwa?” Yunho blinks, but then he grins. “Oh! The hot waiter!”

Hongjoong is going to obliterate Yunho’s kneecaps.

“But wait,” The manager continues, “Why did one dream about Seonghwa convince you to help Jongho?”

Hongjoong leans against his desk, running a hand through his hair. Ah, he seriously has to redye it. 

“I don’t know.” He says finally. “I just have a feeling.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” Hongjoong starts pacing. “He’s been occupying my fucking mind for hours and I don’t know why! I don’t even know him!”

“You guys fuck in the back room when we weren’t looking or something?” Yunho looks less lost now, and more amused with a smirk on his face.

“Shut it, Jeong!” Hongjoong really is about to tell Yunho to say goodbye to his kneecaps, the asshole, but he just groans instead. “I spent a total of five minutes in a room with him and now I literally cannot get him out of my fucking mind.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to date again.” Yunho says with all the authority and sageness of a monk or whatever. “Maybe the universe is sending you a sign.”

“The universe can fuck right off then.” Hongjoong huffs. “Seriously, I am  _ done _ with dating. Men are all trash, yada yada.” 

“You are a man.” Yunho points out. “And also, what was the dream about?”

Hongjoong once again relies on his nonexistent dignity. Yunho has seen him at his worst moments huddled in this studio with multiple empty instant ramen cups and bags that are most definitely not Gucci under his eyes. This would just be Another Day in the Life of Kim Hongjoong.

“I was sleeping with him,” Hongjoong begins, ignoring the wiggling of Yunho’s eyebrows, “not like that, you perv, and he was talking to me, saying that I owed him kisses because we were married, bullshit, like I’d ever get  _ married- _ ”

“Ohoho, Hongjoong, already thinking about marriage?” Yunho has an infuriating smirk on his face. 

“Marriage is a scam and love doesn’t exist.” Hongjoong cuts him off. “Now get out of my studio, I have work to do.”

Not even five minutes after Yunho leaves, there’s a text in the group chat.

_ bros for life _ _ ™ _

**wooyoung** : HONGJOONG AND SEONGHWA SITTING IN A TREE

**mingi** : K I S S I N G

**hongjoong** : i’ll actually kill all of you

\------

Today seems like another day where the KQ Entertainment building is suiting up to be Hongjoong’s second home. As in, just set up a bed for him in the front lobby already. His closet could be the janitor’s closet, he could just take showers in the practice room bathrooms. Truly the ideal lifestyle.

He sits in his chair, staring at the monitors. He hasn’t really thought about Seonghwa all day, only in short bursts of memories of the bathroom and his dream. Now, as he thinks about what unhealthy meal he’s going to procure for dinner, his mind inevitably wanders back to Seonghwa.

Honestly, he doesn’t know what compelled him to help Jongho. Maybe the dream brainwashed him into thinking love is possible ( _ pshh, nah _ ) or he was so touch-starved that Seonghwa’s hand touching his when he handed him paper towels set off lonely horniness or whatever inside Hongjoong. 

Jongho had been smiling when Hongjoong told him he’d co-write with him. The younger man had a cute gummy smile that lit up the entire room, and Hongjoong instantly wanted to wrap him in a blanket burrito and carry him home. 

But yeah, this also means now that Hongjoong has to write the song, because he never wants to see Jongho frown. Like, ever. Call it paternal instinct or whatever you want.

So he’s been staring at his monitor all day, coming up with different beats and sounds after discussing it with Jongho, but none of them just sound right to him. Maybe it’s his preconceived notions about love songs being bullshit holding him back.

Hongjoong’s been simply chalking his good deed up to just being on a high of adrenaline after the dream and contacting Yunho in a lapse of judgement. Because fuck, writing this is going to be hard if he can’t even start a backing track.

But there’s also a tiny, very tiny, part of him that feels like it’s his first crush all over again. For God’s sake, he tripped leaving the bathroom like his legs forgot how to function. The quickness of his heartbeat, the stupid fucking dream, the way Seonghwa just will not vacate his damn mind. 

Also, writing songs to get his feelings out on paper. Like he did when he was thirteen trying to figure out why the fuck he thought Jaehyun from third period math was cute.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself at the noodle shop again, at 11PM at night, praying to God that Jinsoul serves him and not fucking-

“Oh.” 

When he looks up, he silently curses every higher being out there.

Seonghwa somehow looks even better than he did last night. His ash grey hair is swept back in that idol comma style, and the sleeves on the button-up are rolled back to his elbows, exposing his forearms. There’s a silver chain earring dangling from his left ear, and Hongjoong decides that this place is very bad for him, both in terms of Seonghwa and also the MSG in these noodles.

“Hey.” Hongjoong grins, not at all awkwardly. 

“H-hey.” Seonghwa shakes his head, the dangly earring making a tiny clinking noise. “Um, what can I get for you?”

“The spicy noodles with kimchi and pork.” He’s quite proud of himself for not stumbling over his words. Seonghwa nods, writing it down.

“Anything else?” He glances around. “I see your friends aren’t here to egg you on to drink.”

“My friends suck.” Hongjoong mutters.

Seonghwa laughs. Hongjoong’s heart twists up in weird knots.

“I’ll just get water.” He says, ignoring the tightness in his chest.

“Alright.” Seonghwa smiles at him. “I’ll try not to spill it on you today.”

Okay, Hongjoong’s chest is uncomfortably tight.

He opts for just scrolling on his phone while he waits, and not thinking about Seonghwa’s long, lean frame just tables away from him, leaning over the counter to talk to the line cooks and other waiters and waitresses on staff. He ignores the way Seonghwa’s laugh makes his chest feel fluttery and forces himself to reduce it to white noise.

It’s not easy.

When Seonghwa sets his noodles in front of him, he’s able to manage a quiet  _ thank you _ and a smile.

“Do you need anything else?” Seonghwa wipes his hands on the towel tied on his waist. He’s about to walk away when Hongjoong makes Yet Another Bad Decision In The Name of The Really Hot Waiter Named Seonghwa.

“Do you know how to write a love song?” Hongjoong blurts out.

Yeah, his braincells need a checkup or something. All his braincells have been replaced with this stupid fucking love song, it’s going to kill him for real. Yunho is about to be arrested for orchestrating his death with this dumbass song.

Seonghwa cocks his head. “What?”

Hongjoong backtracks. “Oh. Uhm. Nothing.”

But to his dismay, Seonghwa slides into the seat across from him. “Love song? Why?”

“Don’t you have to work?” Hongjoong tries desperately to cover up his moment of weakness.

“Not to be rude, but there’s literally no one else in here.” Seonghwa props his head up on his hand. There’s smudges of blue and green on his forearms. “So, go ahead and talk. Seems like you need it.”

Hongjoong slumps back in his chair. Great, not only is Seonghwa extremely attractive with a voice and accent that Hongjoong frankly found quite sexy, he’s also kind enough to listen to Hongjoong’s ramblings. 

“Well, okay. I’m a producer at the company across the street,” he jerks his head in inclination to the building, “and someone commissioned me to help them write a love song.”

“Is...that so bad?” Hongjoong realizes how that sounded a second too late.

“No!” He waves his hands frantically. “No, I just. I just don’t like writing love songs. It’s like. A thing.”

“Why not?” Seonghwa’s playing with some rings on his fingers that Hongjoong hadn’t noticed before. “Oh wait. Is this like a really personal thing because-”

“I’m not ashamed of it.” Hongjoong shrugs. “All my past relationships have failed spectacularly, so like, love is a pretty hard subject for me to write positively about.”

“Oh.” Seonghwa’s looking at him with an undetectable emotion. Pity? “I’m sorry.”

“Eh.” Hongjoong mixes the noodles in front of him, the air filling with the smell of the noodles and the meat. “Not a big deal. But anyways yeah. I’m having trouble writing it.”

Seonghwa hums. He looks attractive, Hongjoong thinks, in the restaurant lighting and the shadows angled just right on his face. “Well, maybe talking about it would help?”

And surprisingly, instead of hissing like wounded, half-drowned cat, Hongjoong talks. 

He tells Seonghwa about his failed relationships. He tells Seonghwa about the time that his third ex trashed the apartment and justified it by saying it fit a ‘punk rock’ aesthetic. He tells Seonghwa about his first relationship and the naivete that came with having a cheating liar for a partner.

Seonghwa listens. Asks questions, humming in quiet acknowledgement whenever Hongjoong goes off on a tangent. He looks at Hongjoong with big eyes that look innocent, like a child listening to a fantastical story. He laughs whenever Hongjoong laments a stupid decision, and Hongjoong ignores the constant tightness in his chest where his heart is.

Most importantly, he tells Seonghwa about Woohyun.

“It was partially my fault.” Hongjoong admits, the bowl of noodles long empty. “I should’ve done more for him, I should have paid more attention to the deterioration of our relationship rather than my work.” He props his head up on hand.

“So this is why it’s hard for you to write love songs.” Seonghwa says in that ever gentle, patient tone, and Hongjoong is very much not liking the flutter in his chest right now.

“Pretty much. It’s like, love is fake, why even try anymore?” Hongjoong smiles resignedly. “Sorry if I sound like a pessimist.”

“Honestly? Yeah, you do.” 

Hongjoong sputters out something that sounds like what those “gay keyboard smashes” Wooyoung sends in the group chat would sound like in real life, and Seonghwa laughs. 

“What? You said so yourself.” Seonghwa chides him, but Hongjoong is too busy staring at the sparkle in Seonghwa’s eyes when he laughs, and the beautiful, soft smile on his face that radiates warmth even in the air-conditioned restaurant.

“I guess you got me there.” Hongjoong chuckles. “Yeah, I’m tired of it. Maybe I’m just tired of trying. I don’t know.”

“Would you ever try again?” Seonghwa asks, and Hongjoong has to stop himself from saying something he might regret.

Instead he shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe if I find someone who makes me want to try again. But that’s pretty much impossible, right?” He laughs, taking a drink of his nearly empty cup.

He misses the unreadable look in Seonghwa’s eyes.

\------

By the time they’re finished talking, it’s around 1:30 AM, and Hongjoong has to reassure Seonghwa, that yes, he’ll be okay driving home by himself.

Talking to Seonghwa came easy. Thankfully, they didn’t stay on the topic of Hongjoong claiming marriage as a capitalist scheme for too long, and talked about other things. Hongjoong discovered that Seonghwa (and his sexy accent) was from Jinju, and he liked to paint. He was an artist on the side of also being a waiter, and the excitement that lights up in his eyes when he talks about painting is adorable. They talked about their childhoods, their favorite colors, music, anything and everything.

It’s weirdly comfortable.

“I didn’t drink, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong laughs as they stand outside of the restaurant, the lights inside dark. The neon sign flickers above them, casting shadows onto Seonghwa’s worried face.

“I know, but I have a right to be worried about someone who ate three bowls of spicy noodles in a row.” Seonghwa jabs lightly, and Hongjoong huffs.

“Wow, way to shit on my eating choices.”

“It’s not healthy.” Is all Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong petulantly huffs again.

“You never answered my question, by the way.” He adds, and Seonghwa cocks his head, looking down (yes! down! what the fuck!) at him. 

“Question?”

“Know how to write a love song? Like genuinely?” He knows it was a question asked during a lapse in brain function, but maybe Seonghwa is a super secret producer who writes stuff for IU and Yerin Baek, you never know. “You could help a guy with one braincell out.”

“Hm.” Seonghwa taps his lips with his finger. “Maybe mine haven’t been as catastrophic, but I’ve had not so good relationships as well.” He smiles crookedly as Hongjoong. Hongjoong desperately ignores the rapid-fire beating in his chest. “I’m just as unqualified as you are to write about love.”

“Huh.” Hongjoong says intelligently. 

Seonghwa laughs, tipping his head back to look up at the clear night sky. Hongjoong takes a moment to look at him. 

He’s taken the apron off, the black button down and jeans framing his what looks to be a rather lean body quite nicely, and Hongjoong has to tear his eyes away from exposed collarbones and a silver necklace dangling around his neck. His jawline is unfairly defined, Hongjoong thinks.

“I’m like you, I guess.” Seonghwa brushes his hair back with one hand. Some of it falls over his eyes, and Hongjoong’s heart stops for a few seconds. “Dating is relatively off the table for me for now as well.”

Hongjoong doesn’t know why that disappoints him. It shouldn’t, because he’s not looking to date either. Right? 

Right?

“Well, I gotta get home.” Hongjoong quickly tries to fill the gap, hastily digging through his pocket for his car keys.

“Let me know you get home safe.” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong scoffs. “I’m serious, Hongjoong.”

“You don’t have my phone number.” Hongjoong knows this is dangerous territory he’s going into. “Can’t contact you without a phone. Unless you want to use like, messenger pigeons.”

“Oh yeah, let me just call up my pigeon.” Seonghwa raises his hand up to his ear in a call-me signal. “Nope, says he’s on break. So, give me your phone.”

“Wow okay.” Hongjoong is laughing a little. “You should introduce me to your pigeon someday.” He hands Seonghwa his phone, hoping the other doesn’t notice his hand shaking.

“Oh, definitely.” Seonghwa taps a few times, and hands the phone back to Hongjoong. In the name line is  _ Park Seonghwa _ .

“So that’s your last name?” Hongjoong asks. “Park?”

“Yup. Got a problem with that?”

Hongjoong is tempted to continue the banter and say  _ “Yeah, actually-” _ , but he doesn’t. Instead he shakes his head. “I’ll text you when I get home safely, Park Seonghwa.”

“You better…”

“Kim.”

“You better, Kim Hongjoong.”

\------

Love is irritating, because she’s sent a new couple to KQ to get on Hongjoong’s nerves.

“Hi, my name is San!” A grinning blond haired man extends his hand to Hongjoong. He has dimples on his cheeks, and a spattering of freckles on his neck. “I’m Jongho’s boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you.” Hongjoong tries not to think about the fact that this is the man Jongho wants to write a song for. 

_ He’s attractive _ , he has to admit, and San and Jongho look quite nice together. They’re around the same height (both taller than Hongjoong though, blech) and San smiles at Jongho a lot and plays with his hands. 

They were working on the song when San arrived, and unfortunately, writing has come a lot easier for Hongjoong after that night with Seonghwa at the restaurant. He doesn’t want to think about what that might mean. But it’s been a week since then, and they have text rallies nearly every day. 

Hongjoong has found that Seonghwa’s texting is just as endearing as himself. He uses smiley emojis and says ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ to Hongjoong every day. No, it does not make Hongjoong’s chest explode into butterflies. 

He goes to the noodle shop and sometimes just sits at the bar and orders drinks and small plates of dumplings to talk to Seonghwa. Jinsoul scolded him for never talking to her anymore, but then she started implying that Hongjoong and Seonghwa would look ‘cute’ together, and Hongjoong scolded her back.

“I just wanted to talk to Jongho, drop by, see how he’s doing.” San squeezes Jongho’s hand and kisses him on the cheek. It’s quite cute how Jongho’s face blushes pink. “I have a class soon.”

“Are you a student?” Hongjoong asks.

“Oh hell no.” San laughs. His laugh is squeaky and his eyes scrunch up into half-moons. “I’m a taekwondo instructor! It’s a couple blocks down.”

“Cool.” San could probably throw Hongjoong’s ass into next week. He makes a mental note not to ever piss off San or Jongho.

“Can I talk to him? Or are you guys busy? It’s no problem.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Hongjoong grabs his phone. He can text Seonghwa about the woes of having friends that are dating. “Take your time.” 

Once he’s out of the studio, he leans next to the door and opens his phone.

**hongjoong** : why do i exist anymore

**seonghwa** : what do you mean ??

**hongjoong** : everyone around me is dating this is so sickening

**hongjoong** : a cruel trick played by god

**seonghwa** : you are so overdramatic

**hongjoong** : i can hear you saying that

**seonghwa** : i can’t tell if that’s good or bad

_ Bad!! _ Hongjoong wants to say, because Seonghwa is now a fixture in his life. Of course their texts started out awkwardly, weird mixes of ‘hey’s and ‘how are you’s, but now Seonghwa is a comfortable fit into his hectic life. So comfortable, that it’s only been a week, and he’s already picked up on a lot of Seonghwa’s habits and quirks.

Like the tone of voice he adopted when Hongjoong told him about his relatively unhealthy habits. It was the perfect mix of caring and disappointed, and for a second Hongjoong felt properly scolded for eating noodles nearly every day of the week.

Or how when he laughs too hard, he covers his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut and Hongjoong absolutely adores it.

Or when he’s concentrating on calculating someone’s bill, and his eyebrows furrow together and he bites his lip and Hongjoong thinks he’s Actually going to die.

**hongjoong** : no it means you’re annoying

**seonghwa** : :(

Hongjoong snorts.

“Are you doing okay? You look tired.” San’s voice floats through the glass door. Hongjoong realizes he left it slightly ajar. Should he go close it? No, because then that means that he potentially intrudes, so he just pretends that he’s not listening (he is).

“I’m fine, hyung.” Jongho says. “There’s just a lot going on.”

“I don’t want you to overwork yourself, Jong-ie.” San sounds concerned. Hongjoong remembers what Yunho told him.

_ He works hard. I think he wants to prove that to his boyfriend. I know they had some issues regarding his debut. _

“San, I’m okay.” Jongho says.

“You always say that, baby.” San is starting to sound frustrated. “You come home late all the time, and you look so tired, and I told you that I don’t want you to work yourself to exhaustion!”

“I swear, I’m okay!” Hongjoong is beginning to wonder if he’s a dick for listening in. Jongho continues, “Look, I don’t want to worry you, San-”

“You’re always going to worry me!” Is he crying? “Jongho, I love you, and I don’t want you to get hurt in this industry. You can always come back to the studio and teach with me.”

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Jongho says quietly. Hongjoong strains to hear. Yeah, he’s a nosy bitch. “I love teaching with you, but I want to debut. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you know that.”

San hiccups. “I know that, I’m just scared. You’re tired all the time, your work is never-ending, and I barely see you anymore before bed. I miss you.”

Jongho sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. I miss you too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” San sniffles.

“I can’t promise I won’t get hurt, San-ah. But it’ll be okay. I’ll get through it. I have you.”

“Jongho-”

“I’ll start trying to come home earlier. I’ll get better sleep.” Jongho promises softly. “And after I debut, and I get a break, let’s go to Namhae together, okay?”

There’s a quiet pause, punctured by San’s sniffles and Jongho’s quiet words of comfort that Hongjoong barely hears.

“The sea.” San says finally. “Let’s go to the sea.”

“Okay.” There’s another pause, and then Hongjoong hears Jongho say softly, “I love you so much.”

Hongjoong is down the hallway before he can hear San’s reply. He feels like he intruded on a personal conversation, one he wasn’t supposed to hear.

But at the same time, Hongjoong wonders if that’s what it’s like to have a stable relationship with a partner that loves you unconditionally. No boyfriend of his had ever cared about him staying up late and overworking himself. Woohyun had for a while, but then he got sick of it, leading to their engagement dissolving.

And lately, Seonghwa is the one that scolds him when he sees Hongjoong stumble into the restaurant after 10PM, giving him free glasses of water and sitting across from him to make sure he drinks it all. He’s the one gently nagging Hongjoong to take more breaks, go home earlier, drink more water, eat healthier. He’s the one listening patiently to Hongjoong’s rants about songwriting and bitchy idols and dumbass friends. He’s the one smiling when Hongjoong walks in, and taking his order and sitting with him for hours talking about anything and everything.

It’s something that’s dangerously far from ‘caring friend’ and more precariously hanging towards ‘caring boyfriend’.

But Hongjoong dismisses it. Or at least tries to. Seonghwa said he wasn’t looking to date. So no way would he be doting on Hongjoong like this if he was looking to date. Right?

(And it’s not like Hongjoong likes it. No, definitely not. And what if it just turns out like Woohyun?)

He leans against a wall, staring up at the pristine glass ceiling that opens up to the outside, lush green trees hanging over the walkway. 

Not even a week ago, he was locked in the mindset that love was a capitalist scheme to market off feelings. But now?

Park Seonghwa makes his chest feel fluttery and scarily enough, he’s okay with it.


	3. Chapter 3

The door to Hongjoong’s studio swings open, and Hongjoong doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

“What, Wooyoung.”

“Wanna tell us why you look so happy lately?” Wooyoung perches on the edge of his desk, evil smile on his lips. Yeosang stands next to him, looking unimpressed at Wooyoung’s antics as usual. Seriously, Hongjoong doesn’t know how they’re still together.

“None of your business.”

“It’s Seonghwa isn’t it.” Yeosang says. Straight and to the point. Hongjoong winces at his friend’s bluntness.

“I’m-”

“Ha! Knew it!” Wooyoung claps his hands and points at Hongjoong in glee. “You are in love!”

“I am  _ not _ in love!” Hongjoong hisses, finally taking his headphones off to glare at Wooyoung, who’s smirking in unabashed glee. “Who put that shit in your head?”

“No one.” The lilac haired man shrugs. “We can all tell you’re a lot happier. Whenever we go out, you’re glued to your phone. Hongjoong, no one smiles at their phone as widely as you do.”

“Except Mingi when he watches cat videos.” Yeosang reminds him.

Right. Mingi and his fucking cat videos that seem to be his source of happiness.

“That’s so cute.” Wooyoung cooes, leaning down to pinch Hongjoong’s cheeks like an overenthusiastic ahjumma. “Our little Hongjoong-ie is in loooove.”

“I am your senior!” Hongjoong snaps, pushing Wooyoung’s hands away. The choreographer is still grinning as he leans on Yeosang’s shoulder.

“Hongjoong’s in lo-ove.” He sings. The producer just glares at him.

“You do look really happy though, hyung.” Yeosang says. “It wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance. He really likes you if he’s putting up with you.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes. Yeosang doesn’t notice (or chooses not to), and waves a hand towards Hongjoong’s monitors. “That’s the love song you’re writing for Jongho, isn’t it?”   
  


On the screen is a demo backing track, one that Hongjoong created in a flurry when he got to work this morning to match the lyrics he and Jongho had been drafting. It’s a soft piano based melody, with a slow beat. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about Seonghwa while he wrote. As much as he tried to banish all thoughts of the hot waiter, they just came back and intruded his mind at the most inopportune times. He was eating at the company cafeteria and someone near him was eating kimchi noodles and he fucking thought about  _ Seonghwa _ .

Like. What?

“Yeah, it’s the stupid fucking love song.” Hongjoong huffs. “I hate it. It’s taking years off my life.”

“I bet Seonghwa is giving you lots of inspiration though.” Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows.

Instead of responding with a snarky comment that would probably lead to Wooyoung’s murder, Hongjoong just groans.

“Get out.”

“Whaaat?” Wooyoung pouts. “Yeosang, tell him he’s being mean.”

“Why me?”

“He likes you better than me.”

“Not true, I hate all of you equally.” Hongjoong cuts off the soloist’s reply and makes a shooing motion with his hand. “Now go. Leave. Goodbye.”

“Ruuude.” Wooyoung sticks his tongue out. “I’ll be back later though!” He yells as Yeosang pushes him out of the room, most likely to avoid the choreographer’s untimely death.

As soon as they leave, Hongjoong throws an arm over his eyes and sighs heavily.

Look, as much as he hates to admit it, they have a point. Hongjoong knows he’s got a dumb smile plastered on his face whenever he texts Seonghwa, or when he sees the cute texts the other sends like ‘ _ good morning! :) _ ’ or ‘ _ hongjoooong help there’s a mean customer :( _ ‘. 

And he knows his heart rate is faster than normal whenever he sits down at the restaurant and Seonghwa walks over to him, smiling that adorable smile of his and sitting down across from him to listen to Hongjoong’s latest rant. And the way he laughs and comforts Hongjoong...

Now Hongjoong wouldn’t consider this love, persay. The dangerous L-word that always did him wrong in one way or another. But he’s not going to deny that there is a small, small, burgeoning chance, that he likes Seonghwa. In That way.

Even though Seonghwa says he’s not interested in dating either.

He needs a drink.

\------

“Hongjoong, are you okay?” Seonghwa pats the top of Hongjoong’s faded hair, looking concerned.

Actually, Hongjoong isn’t sure what his face looks like, because his own face is mushed into the lacquered wooden table, groaning unintelligibly. He’s just going off context clues, like the tone of Seonghwa’s voice and the gentle threading of the waiter’s fingers through his hair.

“Oh my God, he’s so dramatic.” He recognizes Jinsoul’s voice standing above him. “Whenever he’s sad or something he gets, like, theatrically dramatic. Hey, Hongjoong, you should go audition for the next musical in town.”

“Jinsoul, I hate you.” Hongjoong’s threat is muffled by the table.

“No you don’t. Hey, Seonghwa, I’ll get his order today. You can sit with him.” God, he can almost see the smirk on her face. 

She walks away, and Hongjoong feels a hand pat his head again.

“Wanna talk?”

“Can you get me drunk first?” Hongjoong looks up, and Seonghwa looks hesitant. 

“What?”   
  


“I need to get drunk. Like just knock me out please.”

“Hongjoong-”

“ _ Please _ .” 

Seonghwa sighs. “Alright. Jinsoul, can you get the aspiring actor some soju?"

Hongjoong gasps in mock offense. Jinsoul just laughs. “Sure, you too Seonghwa?”

The waiter shakes his head, and Jinsoul brings a green glass bottle and a little shotglass to the table. “Alright, Hong, knock yourself out.”

“Great. Thank you. I actually love you.” Hongjoong says and she just rolls her eyes. 

“I have a girlfriend.”

“Ok that’s nice, I’m gay.”

“Oh, I know.” Jinsoul winks at Seonghwa before she walks away, and Hongjoong just wants to bury himself in the table. He fills the cup and knocks it back, closing his eyes.

Seonghwa is just watching him in poorly-veiled concern.

“Hongjoong, are you alright?” He asks carefully.

“Seonghwa?”

“Mhm?”

“Why don’t you want to date?”

Seonghwa blinks. “Why?”

“Curious.” Hongjoong shrugs, taking another shot. “You always listen to me go off about love being bullshit and whatnot, so I’ll listen to you. Get my mind off stupid shit.”

Seonghwa laughs, that adorable, cute little laugh. Hongjoong feels his heart skip several fucking beats. 

“Okay.” He says easily, and Hongjoong is a bit shocked. “I guess since you’ve poured your lifestory out to me, it’s fair that I do too, right? We’re friends, are we friends?”

Friends. Hongjoong isn’t sure why that stings.

“Yeah.” He forces a smile as he downs another shot. “So go at it, Park.”   
  


Seonghwa pushes his hair back with his hand. It goes from perfectly styled to slightly messy, and it’s so. Fucking. Cute. Today, his arms are stained in red and black paint, and Hongjoong notices some small paint stains on his slightly exposed collarbone. Fuck his sanity, right?

“Well.” Seonghwa rests his head on one fist. “My last relationship was...honestly pretty shit.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” Hongjoong agrees. He’s slightly tipsy (Yunho often teases him for having a low alcohol tolerance), and the rational part of his brain is fearing that in a drunken state, he’s going to say something he’ll later regret. But at the moment, it’s not his biggest concern, and he downs yet another shot.

“Slow down, kid.” Jinsoul is back, and she drops a bowl of spicy pork bibimyeon in front of Hongjoong. “Eat or else Seonghwa’s gonna have to pat your back while you vomit your guts out in the back.”

“Way to sugarcoat it, Jinsoul.” Hongjoong grumbles, but thanks her anyways.

Hongjoong looks at Seonghwa expectantly, waiting for him to continue, but Seonghwa shakes his head. “Come on, you need to eat.”

“Whyyyy?” Did he mention he’s also kind of a whiny drunk? (He will not admit this however, and he will take this to his fucking grave.) 

“Because I’m making sure you won’t, quote-unquote, ‘vomit your guts out in the back’. Or at least not as violently as it could be.” Seonghwa taps the chopsticks next to the bowl. “Come on.”

Hongjoong sighs dramatically and breaks the chopsticks apart, taking a huge bite of noodles. “Better?” He asks after he swallows.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yep. So.” He sighs. “I was in a relationship that was pretty much one-sided.”

Oh.

“Oh?” He manages, shoveling another chopstick-ful of noodles into his big ass mouth that never should have said anything in the first place.

“Mhm.” Seonghwa’s smiling still, but in that way you’d smile telling someone you failed a test. Regretfully. “I gave him my all, and well, he didn’t feel the same way.”

“Give me an address I just wanna talk.” Hongjoong demands, pointing the chopsticks at the waiter. Yeah, he knows it’s rude, but sue him, he’s twenty-seven and drunk and miserable.

Seonghwa laughs. “I don’t have his address, for obvious reasons. But yeah. Eventually I got tired of always being the one to initiate stuff, like dates and holding hands, and I guess he got tired of me.”

Oh, Hongjoong is going to commit homicide. Someone getting tired of Seonghwa? Should be considered a god damn war crime, because Seonghwa is nothing but a fucking angel, and Hongjoong is really considering grabbing the knife the chef in the back is using to cut pork belly, and slicing Seonghwa’s ex’s throat up.

He might need therapy.

“That’s awful, Seonghwa.” Is what he really says, and stops inhaling his food to show his sincerity. “I’m telling you, just give me a phone number, man. I’ll have his body out in a week.”

“Hongjoong, don’t commit murder.” Seonghwa looks both parts mildly horrified and amused.

“Bet me. Jinsoul, will you help me commit murder?” Hongjoong calls to the blonde girl lounging at the counter, who snorts.

“Who’re we killing?” She exclaims, much too excitedly, walking towards them to crouch and rest her elbows on the table.

“Jinsoul, no.” Seonghwa tries.

“Jinsoul, yes.” She dismisses him. “I am one-hundred percent down for whatever you two are planning.”

“We’re not-” And Seonghwa starts lecturing Jinsoul about morals and not killing people, but Hongjoong keeps eating and drinking, chuckling occasionally at Jinsoul’s attempts to justify killing bad people.

He looks at Seonghwa. And really looks at him. Past his stupidly beautiful eyes and pretty fluffy hair and gorgeous smile that makes him weak as fuck in the knees.

They’re alike. They fall in love, and get their hearts broken much too easily. The only way they’re different is how their last relationships failed. Seonghwa gave too much, and Hongjoong took too much. 

And a terrifying thought strikes Hongjoong through a little devil on his shoulder.

If they ever were to date, would it turn out the same? With Seonghwa caring too much, and Hongjoong caring too little? He would never want to put Seonghwa, who was sweet and kind and obviously loved too much, in the same predicament.

(Breaking Seonghwa’s heart should be a federal crime, Hongjoong thinks.)

However, there’s a tiny angel on Hongjoong’s other shoulder, telling him that since he knows what happened to Seonghwa, he won’t let that happen again. The angel is digging its claws deep into Hongjoong’s heart, screaming  _ You care about him! You might even like him! You think he’s cute! What more do you want! _

Either he’s too drunk now, or maybe there are two supernatural creatures really battling on his shoulders right now. Wait aren’t angels usually made out of wheels of fire and lots of eyes and-

“Hongjoong?” Someone is waving a hand in his face, and he blinks, his eyelids feeling heavy. “Hongjoong.”

“Mm?” He mumbles. How much time has passed? And how much has he drank?

“Oh yep, he’s piss drunk.” Someone says (Jinsoul, probably). “Someone’s gotta take him home and it is not about to be me, Yerim will  _ not _ have Hongjoong passed out on our couch again.”

“Does he drive?” A soft voice asks (Seonghwa?).

“Let’s see.” Jinsoul pinches him and he whines. “Hong-yah, did you drive?”

“Subway.” Hongjoong slurs.

“Yeah, no way in fuck you’re gonna get on the subway.” Jinsoul laughs. “Hwa, do you want to-?”

“Yeah. I’ll take him home. Let me just go get my stuff.” He hears footsteps receding, and a hand ruffles his hair.

“You sure got a caring boyfriend, Hongjoong.”

“Mn.” Hongjoong is in no state to argue. His brain is fuzzy and misguided, and this table kind of smells-

“Okay.” Someone’s taking his messenger bag from his side and he whines in protest, trying to lift his head and scrabble for it. “Hongjoong let me take it.” It’s Seonghwa, and he relaxes.

A hand guides him up, and he stumbles into a warm body, that holds him tight to keep him from stumbling. It smells faintly of frying oil and a whiff of cologne and oh, it’s Seonghwa.

But he takes the opportunity to bury his face in a nice, warm, firm chest and he hears Jinsoul snort.

“Come on, Hongjoong, let’s get you home.” Another pair of arms pulls him away from Seonghwa’s chest and he whimpers incoherently.

“We gotta get you to the car, then you can cuddle up with Seonghwa.” Jinsoul consoles him, and amidst Seonghwa’s shocked protests, Hongjoong is eventually tucked into the passenger seat of a car.

“Nighty night, Joong-ie.” Jinsoul kisses his forehead. “Get him home safe, Hwa.”   
  


Some quiet words are exchanged, but Hongjoong’s already knocked out.

\------

Hongjoong wakes up in a bed that’s not his.

He can barely get his eyelids open, they feel like they’ve been slathered with glue. Everything is crusty and gross, but there’s no uncomfortable press of denim seams on his legs or the uncomfortable sting of his too-small shoes.

When he finally blinks (an accomplishment), he registers a soft bed. And soft pajamas. That he most definitely did not put on himself?

There’s a bedside table next to him, with a bottle of water and painkillers placed neatly on a tissue. 

As he takes the pills and drinks the water, the memories of last night rush into his head.

Oh my fucking Lord, this is Seonghwa’s bed.

Why the hell is he here? Oh God, did they accidentally hook up? Wait, how do you accidentally hook up? Did Hongjoong fuck up the meticulously created plan he made to dodge his feelings?

He stumbles out of the bed, barely taking note of the way the blue and white striped pajamas on him hang a little too loosely and are much too long, throwing open the door. He looks to his left and  _ oh _ -

There’s a large easel in the center of the room, with a canvas set on it covered in blurry colors Hongjoong’s dead eyes can’t quite process. Paint is everywhere, and the walls are splattered artistically with yellows and blues and greens. And in the middle of it all is Seonghwa, whose ash grey hair is lit up angelically by the sunlight pouring in through a big glass picture window, and he’s looking down at what seems to be a paint palette, swirling a brush around in its contents.

He looks up, and Hongjoong freezes.

“Hongjoong.” He calls softly, getting up. He’s wearing a white tshirt that’s already stained with multiple colors of paint, and flared-out grey sweats that received the same brutal paint treatment. Hongjoong is going to pass out (again). It is so fucking unfair that someone could dress like a bum, and still look that good. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Hngh?” Hongjoong’s vocal cords are also sluggish, and he glares at Seonghwa when the other snorts a little, walking over to him and leaning against the doorframe. “Ah, uh,” he manages to croak out in front of the fucking Greek god in front of him, “Yeah. I feel okay. Thanks.”

Seonghwa smiles. “No problem. Are you hungry?”

As if on some kind of theatrical cue, Hongjoong’s stomach growls and he huffs. When Seonghwa laughs, his teeth show and Hongjoong just wants to keel over and cry at the sight.

“Apparently, yes I am.” Hongjoong sighs.

“I’ll make you breakfast?” Seonghwa offers, eyes sparkling and hair glowing like fucking Rapunzel, and fuck, Hongjoong is in so, so deep, because he says yes.

About a half hour later, he’s stationed at a small kitchen island where Seonghwa sets down a plate of only slightly-burned toast and strawberries in front of him. Hongjoong ribs him a little about the black charring, before Seonghwa outright says he would literally remake it for Hongjoong if he wanted, and that definitely shuts him up.

Hongjoong’s absently nursing a strawberry watching Seonghwa eat. He’s cute, with the way toast crumbs are on his lips and his cheeks are stuffed full when he chews like a chipmunk. Hongjoong tries to hide a coo at how adorable he looks.

It’s awfully fucking domestic.

“Maybe I should permanently move in here.” He jokes. “If you’ll cook for me every morning.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “What, never learned how to cook?”

(No. Hongjoong’s never learned how to cook. Gordon Ramsay would scream at him in deserved disappointment.)

“No.” Hongjoong puffs his cheeks out in a pout. “No need to rub it in, masterchef.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen. “Wait, seriously, you never learned how to cook?”

“Yes, Seonghwa, I was released into the wild with no knowledge on how to sustain myself.” Seonghwa gives him a look. “Okay fine, I can cook like, instant ramen and eggs. Maybe I can overcook a chicken if I’m feeling lucky.”

“Aish, how are you not dead yet.” Seonghwa flicks him gently on the forehead. “I should teach you how to cook so you stop spending all your money on restaurant food.”

“Yeah, but then I won’t be able to see you.” Hongjoong fake-whines. 

“Idiot.” Seonghwa shakes his head. “You can see me whenever you want.”

Wow, let’s not talk about how  _ that _ makes Hongjoong’s heart beat like he just drank seven cups of coffee. 

“Yeah, but still.” Hongjoong pulls his best puppy dog eyes, and it seems to work because Seonghwa just sighs and reaches out to muss up Hongjoong’s already birdnest-like hair.

“Then let’s do something outside of you coming and drinking your sanity away at the restaurant.”

Hongjoong blinks. Once, twice.

Is this considered Seonghwa asking him out?

Seonghwa must see the look on his face, because he backtracks quickly.

“Not like a date! I know you don’t want to date, and I don’t want to date, I meant just like us hanging out as friends and stuff, you know, yeah, aha-”

“Um. No. Yeah. That sounds fun.” Hongjoong manages. The elated look on Seonghwa’s face ups his heartbeat to eight cups of coffee.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, sure, why not? Since we’re friends and all that jazz, we should go out like friends.”

The word ‘ _friends_ ’ shouldn’t be stinging Hongjoong’s heart like this.

Seonghwa’s eyes sparkle. “What would you wanna do? And getting drunk and crying over noodles isn’t an option.”

“Well,” Hongjoong opts to look past Seonghwa so he doesn’t have to be subjected to the cuteness of Seonghwa’s sparkling eyes and big smile. His eyes land on a white circular clock hanging over the kitchen window and  _ oh fuck _ -

“Fuck, I'm gonna be late again.” He curses, getting up and turning to run back to the bedroom. Hopefully the clothes he wore last night don’t reek too much of soju.

Unfortunately, he stumbles, and his brain whites out in preparation for the fall as he trips over the too-long pajama pant leg and flails backwards.

Suddenly, two arms wrap around his waist, pulling him up and holding him tightly. He looks up and Seonghwa is there, chest pressed to his back, looking rather amused.

“Hongjoong, did it not occur to you that these are too big?”

“You put me in them apparently!” Hongjoong argues desperately. But to his surprise, Seonghwa shakes his head.

“You chose these last night when I asked you to pick a change of clothes.” Seonghwa’s lip quirks up. “I told you they were too big and you said,  _ ‘I don’t care, I like them, they smell like you.’ _ ”

Oh, Hongjoong’s face fucking  _ burns _ .

“You’re lying.” He accuses the older, who just shakes his head again, smirking.

“You wish I was lying.” Seonghwa teases him, and only then it occurs to Hongjoong how, ahem,  _ compromising _ the position they’re in is.

His head is leaning against Seonghwa’s chest, and his hands have moved to hold the other’s arms wrapped around his body. Has Seonghwa always been this tall? Seonghwa’s also warm, and he’s still smiling at Hongjoong like Hongjoong is the cutest fucking thing on planet Earth.

For some reason, Hongjoong doesn’t want to move.

“Aren’t you going to be late for work?” Hongjoong blinks and oh, Seonghwa’s smirking at him again as the reminder clouds his brain.

“You distracted me, asshole.” He untangles himself from Seonghwa’s arms and jabs a finger in his chest. “Fuck, I hope my clothes don’t smell like alcohol, everyone’s going to stay six feet away from me.”

Seonghwa laughs, and before Hongjoong knows it, Seonghwa’s hands are on his shoulders as he presses a soft, barely there kiss to Hongjoong’s forehead. “Come on, you can borrow my clothes.”   
  


Hongjoong is now confirming that he has traveled to an alternate fucking dimension, because  _ what the fuck. _

\------

Hongjoong stumbles into work wearing a pair of whitewashed jeans that are pinned up so he doesn’t trip over them and a white knitted sweater with a small cherry embroidery. He’s aware that the sweater keeps falling off his shoulder every few steps, and he wraps his arms around himself so he doesn’t accidentally flash some poor trainee.

No, they are not his clothes.

They were the smallest sizes in Seonghwa’s closet that he could find (admittedly making Seonghwa’s bedroom look like a clothing tornado whipped through it), but he still looked like a kid trying to play dress-up in their parent’s clothes.

Also, he’s practically swimming in Seonghwa’s scent (some kind of excessively flowery sweet laundry detergent), and no, he and his dick are not taking it very well.

(He’s also pointedly not thinking about the way Seonghwa blushed when Hongjoong came out wearing his clothes, and the way Seonghwa stuttered over his words as he fumbled to safety-pin the jeans to Hongjoong’s waist size. Not thinking about it at all.)

Unfortunately, Yeosang is standing by his studio door when he comes down the hallway, so there goes his plan of slinking into his studio and locking it to avoid any further embarrassment.

“Ah, hyung, I wanted to ask you…” Yeosang stops as he sizes up Hongjoong’s miniscule frame draped in Seonghwa’s clothes. “Ah.”

“What.” Hongjoong snaps.

Yeosang’s lips curve up into an evil smirk. “I see someone stole their boyfriend’s clothes today.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Hongjoong grouches, choosing not to give Yeosang the satisfaction of being right. Sucks for Yeosang, he doesn't get to know that the cute boy did safety-pin his clothes and kiss Hongjoong’s forehead (again!!) good-bye (but not before loading him up on hangover medicine and painkillers). 

“Mhm. Okay. Sure.” Yeosang sounds doubtful, but his eyes are glinting with something dangerous and Hongjoong just knows he’s going to hear it from Wooyoung later. “Anyways, I wanted to ask you about the new OST I’m doing.”

Hongjoong groans dramatically. “Can you let me take a five minute nap? I’m hopped up on completely legal drugs right now.”

The soloist eyes him suspiciously. “You’re gonna nap in your boyfriend’s sweater? How cute.”

Yeosang can be a little bitch when he wants to be.

“Shut the fuck up.” Hongjoong grumbles as he turns the key in the door, and Yeosang grins and ruffles his hair before walking away and pulling out his phone, presumably to text Wooyoung about this brand-new development of Hongjoong drowning in Seonghwa’s clothes.

Well, Hongjoong’s going to go into his studio, drink some water, knock out from the medicine coursing through his veins, and cuddle into Seonghwa’s fluffy, soft sweater- wait what?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i've never been to lotte world in my life , everything i know is from researching their website and that one run bts episode where yoongi and hobi cried on the pirate ship swing
> 
> also yes i know in real life hwa is actually afraid of heights but this is fictional and we need it for Plot okay (park seonghwa i love you please don't kill me)
> 
> (yet another note: idk why but the date gives me euphoria by jungkook vibes idk)

“Alright, Jongho.” Hongjoong leans back in his chair. “Show me what you got.”

The soloist holds out a piece of notebook paper, with scrawlings written and crossed out all over it. Hongjoong internally coos. It reminds him of when he first started out writing lyrics in his high school trigonometry notebook. (Needless to say, he didn’t do so well in that class.)

“It’s not much, but I came up with some verses?.” Well. Color Hongjoong impressed. He takes the paper and tries to find the starting point, only to hold back a laugh and look up at Jongho.

“Uh. Where does it start?”

Jongho blushes and points to a long stream of words. “Uhm, here.”

Hongjoong wants to take this kid as his apprentice so fucking bad.

_ The day is over again _

_ Tomorrow I'm going to get deeper with you _

_ Even those strange times _

_ Can be called memories _

_ Do you remember? _

_ The promise I made to you that I would never stop _

_ I'm still walking _

_ No matter what difficulties may interrupt me _

That’s...wow. Hongjoong’s not hiding the shock on his face, and Jongho ducks his head. “It’s not much, really, but-”

“I think they’re really good.” Hongjoong’s voice comes out a bit strangled, and he coughs to cover it up. “Jongho, I really like it.”

The younger straightens up after that, although there’s a still a deep flush on his neck. 

“It’s good that we have this to start with, but what else can we add?” Hongjoong directs Jongho to sit on the sofa, and hands the lyric paper back to him. “Specifically, might there be anything you want to say to San?”

“That I love him.” The flush on the younger’s neck grows deeper. “I want to tell him that I want to be with him for the rest of my life, and I know that sounds kind of dumb, but I really appreciate him.”

Hongjoong’s impressed, that those words easily flow from Jongho’s lips without any kicking and screaming. If it were him, getting him to talk so freely about his emotions would be like pulling teeth.

But the younger’s bluntness gives him an idea quickly, so he turns around and grabs one of the many notebooks that are tucked into a corner on his desk, flipping it open and quickly scrawling something inside. Jongho jumps at the sudden noise, and Hongjoong is internally keeling over at how cute he is. As soon as he’s done, Hongjoong flips the notebook to Jongho’s view, allowing him to read the contents.

_ I want to walk with you for a long time _

_ I want to share more with you _

_ Only wanna be with you _

Yes, Hongjoong’s ignoring the thoughts of a man with ash grey hair and a sweet smile that are threatening to overcrowd his mind. He’s willfully ignoring how he’s still wearing Seonghwa’s sweater (it’s been a good three days, and it still smells like the older) and he’s also actively ignoring the way he really doesn’t want to give it back to Seonghwa.

He looks at Jongho, who smiles. “Hyung, I really like it.” He reaches for the pen. “Can I…?” Hongjoong nods and Jongho starts writing something right below Hongjoong’s less-than-perfect handwriting. When he’s done, he turns it back to Hongjoong, who reads it.

_ I want to walk with you _

_ I want to be with you _

_ Stay with me always _

It’s so sweet. It’s so sweet and saccharine that Hongjoong feels like vomiting into the strawberry shaped trashcan next to his desk that Yunho bought him as a joke back when he dyed his hair red. But the thing is, they’re genuine feelings. Hongjoong truly admires Jongho for the way he can say these things so easily, probably in part that he has someone to say these things to, and he laments that the younger is so much luckier in love than he is.

“It’s good, Jongho-yah.” He says instead of professing his word vomit. “You’re really good at writing lyrics, you know.”

Jongho scratches the back of his neck. “Thank you, hyung. That means a lot.”

Hongjoong ruffles Jongho’s hair, which has been dyed light brown from the black color from when they first met. The younger squirms and Hongjoong grins, patting the mess of hair. “Come on, let’s keep working.”

\------

“It is six AM.”

“Yeah.” 

“You have a date in,” Yeosang checks his phone, “six hours.”

“It’s not a date.” Hongjoong argues. Yeosang ignores him, and continues.

“And you want me to dye your hair in said six hours.”

“Yeah.” 

The other sighs heavily, but motions for Hongjoong to walk into his apartment, and Hongjoong knows he’s won.

Yeosang likes to act like he’s cold and stoic and doesn’t care, but Hongjoong knows better than to fall for the facade.

As Hongjoong steps inside, he notes the tiny things that distinguish the two people living there. For example, Yeosang’s Converse shoes are neatly placed to one side, while Wooyoung’s Vans are smashed in the backs and haphazardly thrown on their sides. Complete opposites.

Hongjoong kicks off his own shoes and looks up to see Yeosang rubbing his eyes sleepily, his golden brown hair sticking up every which way. He snickers.

“Shut it.” Yeosang says, although his voice has no sense of threat muffled by sleep. “I’ll go get the stuff and I’ll be right back.”

He disappears into the bathroom, and Hongjoong takes a seat at the kitchen island to wait.

He’d stayed in the studio until three AM, much too anxious about his “hang-out” with Seonghwa (which they had planned the night before), and then decided to dye his hair (as one does in a fit of anxiety). However, he had run out of dye and bleach, and didn’t feel like taking a trip to the convenience store, so he ended up at his friend’s apartment. It’s okay, Yeosang wakes up early anyways.

Wooyoung stumbles out, rubbing his eyes with his fists. Hongjoong watches, amused, as Wooyoung looks around with half-lidded eyes before seeing him and launching into his lap.

“Hyuuuung, I’m tired.” He whines, fisting his hands into Hongjoong’s shirt and burying his face into his chest. “Yeo made me wake up and for whaaaat-” He pauses, seemingly waking up. “Wait, why are you here.”

“He wants me to dye his hair.” Yeosang grumbles as he walks back into the room. In his hands is a big plastic box stained with dye on the outside and filled with brushes and crumpled tinfoil. “And no, Woo, I’m not letting you do anything.”

“Why noooot?” Wooyoung whines even louder into Hongjoong’s shirt. “Yeo, you’re mean. Hyung, tell him he’s being mean.”

“You’re being mean.” Hongjoong says earnestly to Yeosang, who just shrugs as he begins to spread the supplies on the counter.

“I’m always mean.” He counters. “Go wash your hair in the bathroom and come back, you’re probably greasy.”

Hongjoong sticks his tongue out in retaliation. He’s been cooped up in his studio for hours, of course he’s going to be gross and sticky, but thanks for the reminder, Yeosang.

When he comes back, Yeosang is wielding a bowl of black dye and a paintbrush like a weapon. “Alright, sit your ass down.”

“No need to be aggressive.” Hongjoong slides into the chair across from Wooyoung, who’s curled up on the seat half-asleep. Yeosang wraps a towel around his shoulders, and Hongjoong is about to crack some stupid joke about the towel feeling like a hug because he’s starved for human contact, when Wooyoung pipes up.

“Soooo, you wanna look cute for your lover boy?”

“Wooyoung, I’ll drop-kick you off the balcony.” Hongjoong arbitrarily waves to the small balcony outside of the apartment, choosing to not think about the time he, Yunho, and Mingi came over and found the couple fucking outside. Yeah, scarring.

“You wouldn’t, hyung-ie~” Wooyoung pushes his lips out in a pout to attempt to look cute enough to escape Hongjoong’s wrath. To be fair, it would have worked. Everyone, and that means  _ everyone _ , loves Wooyoung.

“He would, and I would open the door for him.” Yeosang’s gloved hands start rubbing the dye into Hongjoong’s hair and seriously, Hongjoong is touch-starved, because he likes the feeling. Sue him.

“Yeosang-ieeeee!” Wooyoung kicks his legs around like a child. “You’re so me-” Before he can finish whining, Yeosang leans over Hongjoong and kisses Wooyoung, effectively shutting him up.

“You two are disgusting.” Hongjoong says without any mirth.

“Thanks.” Yeosang replies after he pulls away, continuing to thread his fingers and the brush through Hongjoong’s hair like nothing happened.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, looks like he just ascended to the heavens.

“He gets like that.” Yeosang says as an explanation. Hongjoong doesn’t miss the fond undertones of his words, but he just nods, closing his eyes to let Yeosang continue his process.

Like he’s said before, Wooyoung and Yeosang are a puzzle he never quite figured out. When Yeosang joined the company, Wooyoung followed him around like a lost puppy. Hongjoong vividly remembers the day Yeosang signed his contract. Wooyoung came crying into Hongjoong’s studio that he had just seen the most gorgeous man on Earth and  _ Hongjoong-hyung, start planning the wedding because I’m going to marry him- _

At first, Yeosang kept to himself. For weeks, Hongjoong and Yunho had watched, amused, as Wooyoung bounced around wherever Yeosang went, chattering and clinging to the soloist like a koala. It took a while before Yeosang finally acknowledged him. 

Even Hongjoong doesn’t know what happened. One day, Wooyoung was sitting on his studio sofa with Chinese takeout sobbing about how beautiful Yeosang looked in the practice room that day. And the next day, Hongjoong choked on his coffee watching Yeosang slam Wooyoung into a wall and kiss the living daylights out of the choreographer. (Granted, it was the wall literally right next to his studio door.)

And boom, they were dating. Hongjoong will never know how Wooyoung managed to grab the man of his dreams in under a month.

Better not remind Wooyoung, or he’ll boast about it for the next month.

An hour later, Wooyoung’s fallen asleep in the chair across from Hongjoong, and he hears Yeosang sigh as he steps away. “Alright, you’re done. Let it set for about three hours, then you can shower, but don’t wash your hair.”

“Thanks, ‘Sang.” Hongjoong turns around to smile at Yeosang, who’s pulling off the plastic gloves and throwing them away. The soloist turns to smile back, and pat Hongjoong’s cheek. 

“No problem, hyung.” He pauses. “Hopefully your little lover boy will like the change.”

“Yeosang, I will kick you.”

“You would never.”

\------

It’s a nice sunny day when Hongjoong arrives at Lotte World.

Yeah. Lotte World. The fucking amusement park.

But two nights ago when Hongjoong went to the restaurant, amidst a lot of blushing and stuttering that he’s definitely  _ not _ going to think about, Seonghwa had brought up the idea that they go to an amusement park.

Normally, Hongjoong wouldn’t go to places like this because one, it was for couples and families, and two, he didn’t like the crowds of people shoving to ride a stupid carousel.

However, upon seeing the excited sparkle in Seonghwa’s eyes and the big childlike grin on his face, who was Hongjoong to say no?

God, Wooyoung and Yeosang would laugh and call him whipped if they knew. They did that enough when they invited themselves into Hongjoong’s apartment to act as his stylists for the day, Wooyoung claiming he had better fashion sense than Yeosang and Hongjoong combined.

He arrives at the gate, shielding his eyes from the sunlight to look for Seonghwa.

And once he finds him, he inadvertently thanks all the heavenly beings above (if they exist) and the moments that led Seonghwa to look like  _ this _ .

Seonghwa’s wearing a black blazer and shirt underneath, with jeans that are ripped artfully at his knees. He’s also wearing black boots and his hair is parted to one side, hanging as he checks the watch (a fucking watch !!) on his wrist. Okay, Hongjoong wasn’t aware that this was a fucking fashion show, because he feels  _ severely _ underdressed.

Hongjoong forces his feet to make their way towards the other man, and before he knows it, he’s standing in front of him. Was Seonghwa always this tall, or is Hongjoong shrinking already?

“Seonghwa?” He says it quietly, but Seonghwa’s head whips up, and they stare at each other.

Hongjoong looks away first, picking at a loose thread on his jacket. Wooyoung styled him in a more casual way, dark washed denim jacket over a white tshirt and matching dark jeans, along with Converse and his newly dyed black hair curled. Yeah, he kind of feels underdressed (thanks a lot Jung Wooyoung!)

The other man’s mouth opens, then closes again, like he’s struggling to speak.

Hongjoong laughs a little, flicking Seonghwa’s cheek. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“No.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You just look really good.”

Nevermind, Hongjoong is not going to sacrifice Wooyoung into the nearest volcano. Instead, maybe he’ll buy him a pizza and a thirty-count box of condoms.

“Thanks.” Hongjoong manages. “You too. You look good. Too, I mean.”

He’s not lying. Close up, Seonghwa looks like an expensive rich chaebol from one of those romance dramas Mingi likes to watch, and Hongjoong’s heart is not doing so well.

“I like your hair.” Seonghwa’s finger hesitantly curls around one of the black spirals. “It’s cute.”

Hongjoong is blushing like hell.

“Thanks!” He manages to keep his voice at a non-screechy tone, and he looks over at the ticket booth. “I guess we should go buy tickets?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “I got them already.” He hands Hongjoong a light blue ticket and Hongjoong stares as he blushes red.

“Ah.” Hongjoong fumbles with the ticket for a second. “Thank you.”

Seonghwa looks away, but Hongjoong can still see him blushing. “No problem.”

Fuck. Park Seonghwa really is bad for his health.

They scan their tickets at the kiosk (the worker telling them, “you two are so cute!” and neither man responded because both of them dropped their tickets upon hearing that) and walk inside. Hongjoong can’t remember the last time he’s been to an amusement park, so it’s a nice change to see the colorful rides and signs and hear the loud screams and laughter.

And from the look on Seonghwa’s face, he must like it too.

There’s a childlike sort of wonder on Seonghwa’s face that makes Hongjoong’s heart flutter a little bit. “Seonghwa, you-”

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa turns to him and his eyes are sparkling, a big smile on his face. “They have cotton candy!”

And Hongjoong is just so caught up in the excitement in Seonghwa’s voice, the way his eyes are lit up like a Christmas tree, that he doesn’t even register Seonghwa’s hand grabbing his and dragging him towards a pastel pink food stand.

The first few hours go by in a bout of eating. Neither of them had eaten before coming, so Hongjoong is sure that whoever runs his bank account at the bank is going to think he hasn’t eaten for weeks what with all the charges piling up.

He gets to eat various foods like ice cream, taiyaki, egg sandwiches, and other things that are going to raise his blood pressure to unhealthy levels. He tries not to think about that though. It’s also detrimental to his bank account, because he and Seonghwa argued over who would pay at every stand, and somehow every time Hongjoong won.

Maybe it’s because he’s weak for Seonghwa.

No, yeah, it’s definitely because he’s weak for Seonghwa. If he wasn’t weak for Seonghwa, he wouldn’t be standing in line for a fucking roller-coaster.

“It’ll be fine, Hongjoong.”

“ _ It’ll be fine, Hongjoong _ , my ass.” He glares at the other. “I cannot believe I let you coerce me into riding a fucking roller-coaster.”

“Aww, are you scared?” Seonghwa teases him and Hongjoong swats him.

“Rude, I just paid for like, all of your food.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, but-” Hongjoong gives up. “Hyuuuuung, I don’t wanna go.”

Normally, he barely calls Seonghwa ‘hyung’. He drops the honorific more often than not, since they didn’t find out Seonghwa was a bit older by around nine months for a while. But yep, he’s pulling the ‘hyung’ card now. Anything to not ride the terrifying, huge, roller-coaster that they’re just steps away from riding.

Seonghwa visibly softens, and Hongjoong internally congratulates himself. But then Seonghwa just shakes his head, and softly flicks Hongjoong’s forehead. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Hongjoong-ah.”

Hongjoong remembers a time where he was at the restaurant, and it was relatively busy. He was watching Seonghwa work, and just generally making his life harder for fun. He remembers being in the middle of making a paper straw wrapper ball to flick at Seonghwa’s head when Seonghwa was serving a cute girl that was clearly trying to flirt with him.

And he clearly remembers the girl saying in a cute manner, “What do you recommend,  _ oppa _ ?”

Seonghwa had choked, and Hongjoong had almost died laughing watching Seonghwa stammer and stutter over his words after that. 

So he swallows his dignity, and latches onto Seonghwa’s arm, sticking his lips out in an overexaggerated pout and widening his eyes for the full effect. “I don’t wanna gooo,  _ oppa _ ~”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Hongjoong grins, because finally, they can get out of this stupid line, and Hongjoong won’t have to try and cheat death today-

“Row 5.” A worker says grumpily next to them, and Hongjoong’s brain almost permanently shorts out when he realizes, well fuck, they’re at the front of the line.

He stands there in mute defeat as Seonghwa manages a ‘thanks’, guiding Hongjoong to their assigned row.

Minutes later, he’s strapped in next to Seonghwa, and internally writing up his will.  _ To Jongho, I give my studio. To San, I give my blessing. To Yeosang, I give him my six unfinished demos for his OST. To Wooyoung, cut off my middle finger and give it to him- _

“Joong.”

He turns, and Seonghwa’s looking at him.

For a second, he’s afraid of what Seonghwa might say. But instead, the other just snickers. “Looks like you couldn’t get out of it no matter how hard you tried.”

“You’re rude.” Hongjoong wiggles his arm under the restrictive shoulder-bar to flick Seonghwa’s hand. “I made a valiant effort.”

“Aww, don’t worry.” Seonghwa’s hand curls around his, and for a minute, all the breath gets knocked out of Hongjoong. “ _ Oppa _ will take care of you.”

And Hongjoong doesn’t even have time to ask what the  _ fuck _ that means before the roller-coaster launches, and he’s too busy screaming and worrying about not dying.

The entire time, Seonghwa’s hand is wrapped tightly around his.

\------

No one brings up the  _ oppa _ thing.

That, or they’re just choosing to ignore it.

Right now, they’re at the park’s arcade, trying to win prizes that were clearly rigged. Hongjoong laughs as he watches Seonghwa fail to win yet again.

“Just give up already.” He chides as Seonghwa huffs, head falling against the glass of the claw machine.

“Joong, you don’t understand, it’s so cute I want it.”

To be honest, Hongjoong doesn’t know where the whole nickname thing came from. But he rolls with it, bumping Seonghwa’s shoulder with his. “Hwa, it’s a stuffed dragon.”   
  
“Okay and?” Seonghwa digs around in his pocket, looking for more coins. “I’m down to stand here all day until I get it.”

“Stubborn.” Hongjoong remarks as Seonghwa finds four more coins, face visibly brightening as he slots them into the machine. “No, wait-” He shoves Seonghwa out of the way, ignoring the offended gasp of the older.

Hongjoong’s not good at claw machine games. But he maneuvers the claw, trying to lock down on that small fluffy black dragon plushie that Seonghwa’s so hellbent on getting. Once he thinks he’s got the right angle, he hits the button.

The claw descends, and Hongjoong holds his breath as it opens and closes around the dragon. It lifts up, and Hongjoong watches as the dragon is lifted up too, encased in the cheap plastic claws.

The claw drops the dragon in the prize slot, and Hongjoong smiles a little as Seonghwa pulls it out with a grin on his face like a child on Christmas morning.

“Hongjoong! You got it!” Seonghwa’s hugging it, grinning as he bounces on his heels.  _ Adorable _ , Hongjoong’s stupid brain supplies.

“Yeah, no problem.” Hongjoong awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “It’s not that hard, Hwa.”

“Says you. Liar.” Seonghwa uses the plushie’s paw to whack Hongjoong in the face. “He doesn’t like you.”

“You’ve assigned a gender to a dragon.” Hongjoong says dryly as Seonghwa just pouts. 

“You’re mean.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna name him Mars.” Seonghwa declares. Hongjoong snorts.

“Original.”

“You’re a bully.”

“You love me.” Hongjoong says offhandedly before he realizes, and quickly looks at Seonghwa to gauge his reaction.

But instead, there’s a soft smile on Seonghwa’s face as he looks at Hongjoong. It makes a warm, weird feeling curl up in Hongjoong’s chest. Seonghwa hugs the plushie tighter.

“Yeah, you’re right. I do.”

\------

The rest of the day goes by in a blur.

Hongjoong gets dragged on to more rollercoasters that leave his head spinning and Seonghwa laughs at him as he screams his lungs out in fear of the big metal contraption collapsing or something.

He gets Seonghwa back though by beating him in more arcade games. Okay no, he actually doesn’t because when he’s losing, Seonghwa will give him the biggest watery puppy eyes and Hongjoong has to give in and lose.

No, shut up, he’s not whipped.

The day is almost over, the sun setting as they walk out of the park, laughing about Hongjoong falling and failing miserably to catch Seonghwa in a game of laser tag.

“You just  _ fell _ .” Seonghwa snorts. “You just fell in front of me, way to go, stealth master.”

“Fuck off.” Hongjoong lightly punches the other in the arm, pouting. “I thought I was finally going to take you down.”

“You wish.” Seonghwa says mock-wistfully, patting Hongjoong’s head. Hongjoong makes an offended noise and swats Seonghwa’s hand away, to which the older laughs.

Now, Hongjoong understands the feeling he gets when he looks at Seonghwa.

He feels like a fucking teenager again, fumbling through his feelings to try and get a sense for what they were. It’s the same symptoms, a rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms, flushed face, and the spinning in his head from thinking too much.

And looking at the way Seonghwa clutches the stuffed dragon in his arms, the sparkle in his eyes as he looks up at the sunset beginning to be dotted with faint stars, he knows he’s fucked.

These have been possibly the best seven hours of his life, and they were all spent with Seonghwa.

He’s in love, isn’t he?

The other looks at him, and for the moment, time seems to be frozen like a typical dumb romcom. Hongjoong knows he should look away, but he can’t.

Seonghwa steps closer, and carefully threads one hand through Hongjoong’s hair. “You know,” he starts softly, “I really like your hair.”

Hongjoong laughs nervously, finally looking down at the ground. “Thanks, I guess?”

Why does this feel romantic?

Fingers lift his face up, and Seonghwa smiles, tilting his head just right to where the dying rays of the sun filter through his hair and make him look like an angel with a glowing orangey-pink halo. “I don’t think you get it. Hongjoong, you’re beautiful.”

If he wasn’t blushing before, he sure is now.

This probably looks stupid, them standing in the middle of the walkway, Seonghwa holding a medium sized dragon in one hand with Hongjoong’s face in other, and Hongjoong standing there with limp hands and a slack jaw because he’s freaking out, there is no way this is going to happen.

They were just  _ friends _ . And even so, if they did ever date, it would end up in disaster. Seonghwa would find out that he is really is just a miserable sod to be around and leave like everyone else did. He’ll going to leave and never look back, and Hongjoong will bury his heart in the dirt six feet below again and never bring it back up. 

Seonghwa isn’t Hongjoong’s Prince Charming, he’s just someone who happened to meet and somehow tolerate Hongjoong. Once he finally peels back the layers of Hongjoong’s traumatized, sarcastic self, he’s going to leave. Just like everyone else.

And now Seonghwa’s leaning in, and for a moment, Hongjoong gets lost in how gorgeous Seonghwa looks against the sunset, and how he would love for Seonghwa to be his.

But it’s never going to happen. Seonghwa will never be his, because he’ll eventually leave, unable to deal with Hongjoong’s broken pieces just like everyone else.

“Sorry.” Hongjoong pushes Seonghwa away with force he didn’t know he had, and for a second, a flash of guilt wracks his body at the confused and hurt expression on Seonghwa’s otherwise perfect face. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He repeats, before walking away, and not looking back.

It’s not until he’s safely tucked into a corner seat on the subway that he breaks down, curling in on himself and sobbing quietly into his jacket.

He’s in love.

And it’s horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update soon ~ do i know how soon ? no because apparently zoom university is a synonym for more homework i cannot WAIT for fall quarter to be over (watch me update tmrw bc of procrastination LMAO) (you can yell at me to update on twt @ treasureyeo uwu)
> 
> this fic will have about one more chapter and an epilogue, and yes for all the horny bitches out there (solidarity), the next chapter will change the rating to E


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up !!! this is a long one ~
> 
> warning: yes there's smut , the section is marked with *** if you're uncomfortable and want to skip ! also if you were looking for rough hardcore sex this is not the place because this is soft realizing-your-feelings type of shit !!! also it's kind of non-descriptive because i'm not very good at writing smut aha
> 
> small spoiler: top!hwa and bottom!joong ~

“Hyung, I’m not one to comment on your appearance but,” Hongjoong doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s Yunho standing at his studio door again, hesitantly bringing little pastries or whatever for him because Mingi decided he wanted to learn how to bake, “you look awful.”

Hongjoong snorts, eyes trained on the screens in front of him. He knows he looks like shit, he took a glance in the mirror this morning before dragging his body out of his apartment (truly a big mistake). He sees Yunho’s hand place a small wrapped package in front of him.

“Mingi decided he wanted to learn how to make macarons.” Yunho laughs, sounding forced. “They’re a little deformed but I promise they taste okay.”

“Thanks.” Hongjoong says with as much feeling as he can muster.

He can feel Yunho’s eyes on him. “Hongjoong, we’re here if you want to talk. If it’s about Seonghwa-” Hongjoong flinches at the name. “We’re here for you.”

“Mn.” He just hums instead, not even looking up at his friend. “Thanks, Yunho.”

Yunho hesitates for a moment, but he leaves, closing the studio door behind him.

Hongjoong sighs, straightening up from his crouched form (no wonder he’s got back problems), and he looks down at the small blue package. When he tears it open, there’s a few slightly lumpy pink macarons in a plastic box. He cracks open the box and tosses one in his mouth. It tastes okay.

It’s been a week since the date. One week of Hongjoong avoiding the noodle shop like the plague, and one week of him throwing himself into his work as a (albeit unhealthy) distraction. One week of no texts from Seonghwa, and one week of Hongjoong desperately pushing any thoughts of said man out of his sad mushy brain.

It’s strangely empty without Seonghwa’s warm presence in his life, but Hongjoong’s really only got himself to blame.

Of course he feels guilty. To be fair, he should have never led Seonghwa on in the first place.

He sighs, eating another macaron. The screen in front of him is blurry, probably from all the gunk crusting around his eyes from lack of sleep. His skin feels gross, like when you haven’t taken a shower for days.

(Surprise, surprise. He _hasn’t_ showered for days.)

Whenever Hongjoong closes his eyes, he sees Seonghwa backlit by the setting sun, hair glowing and a pained expression on his face. The last time he saw Seonghwa’s face, and he hurt him.

What else did he expect? He always hurt everyone around him in one way or another. Honestly, he was surprised all his friends at KQ were still tolerating him and his cynical worldview. They were all optimistic, cheery people, but him? He was like the Hades to their Aphrodite.

And Seonghwa would have been dragged down by him anyways, he supposes. Seonghwa was like his friends, a bright ray of sunshine and rainbows and whatever. Unlike his friends though, Seonghwa hasn’t known him for long, so he’d probably drop Hongjoong faster.

Hongjoong sighs, throwing an arm over his eyes to rub the sticky gunk out of his eyes. He should probably go home and sleep and shower, but it’s just not as appealing as overworking himself to the point of forgetting about Seonghwa and his friends and everything else.

“Hyung?”

The door creaks open, and someone carefully makes their way into the room.

Hongjoong sighs. “Yes, Jongho?”

When he looks, Jongho looks mildly terrified for a moment. Damn, is it that bad, does he look like a half-dead body right now?

“I just wanted to ask you if you had time to work on the song right now…” Jongho looks down at the floor. “I have a break in schedules, so if you…” He trails off, probably perturbed by Hongjoong’s silence.

The last thing Hongjoong wants to do right now is go and work on a song wherein the majority of the time he spent writing and creating it he was thinking about one (1) man with pretty brown eyes and an adorable smile that leaves Hongjoong’s heart twisting into guilty, tight knots whenever he thinks about it.

“No.” He says, a bit forcefully. “I don’t have time right now. Go hang out with Yeosang or Wooyoung or someone.” He turns away so he doesn’t have to see Jongho’s face.

“Hyung? Are you okay?” Jongho still hasn’t left, and Hongjoong silently curses. “Um, if you want to talk to someone-”

If Hongjoong hears _“I’m here for you”_ one more fucking time, he might actually break down, and he definitely does _not_ want that.

“I’m fine, Jongho.” He grits out. “I don’t need any counseling right now. When you leave, close the door.”

Surprisingly, the soloist still doesn’t budge.

“Hyung-”

“I said go!” Hongjoong shouts, turning around, and for a minute, Jongho’s hurt face reminds him too much of someone he didn’t want to think about. 

Jongho turns around, and leaves, closing the door.

Hongjoong slumps in his chair, throwing an arm over his burning eyes.

Yes, he feels bad. No, he shouldn’t have yelled at the younger. But everything was just getting too much, and Hongjoong’s emotions were like a pot that was about to boil over. Not quite there, but very, very close.

The door swings open again, and Hongjoong hears someone march into the room. “Out.” They growl.

Hongjoong lifts his arm and blinks. Standing in front of him is Yeosang, who looks angrier than when Mingi and Yunho pranked him during dance practice by turning the speakers up to max volume and played BigBang instead of his music.

“Yeosang?”

Yeosang just rolls his eyes, and points to the door. “You. You need to get out. You’ve been sitting here for days, wallowing in your sorrows like some classic book character. You’re irritable and frustrated, I get it, but you didn’t have to yell at Jongho. So I mean it when I say, get up and go outside. Go drink or something. I don’t care. Just don’t come back until you’ve learned that being sad doesn’t mean you can be a dick.”

Owch.

Hongjoong just buries his face in his sweater, and Yeosang’s hand comes to softly ruffle his hair. “Hongjoong,” he says, tone softer and gentler, “come on. You won’t tell us what happened, so of course we can’t help you. Just please, go calm down so you can come back and apologize to Jong-ie.”

And against the part of him that just wants to burrow further into his studio and forget about everything, Hongjoong goes.

\-----

Outside, the sky is gray, a contrast between the autumn leaves that are beginning to fall onto the grass and create a leaf carpet that little kids are kicking and making into piles. It smells like it’s going to rain, and Hongjoong hopes to God it doesn’t rain because he’s definitely not dressed for it.

He looks up at the sky, taking in the dark grey color and listening to the laughter of children and the chattering of friends. There are some couples, having picnics on the grass and smiling and feeding each other. Hongjoong chooses not to look at them.

Yeosang was right, being outside has helped him calm down, and the autumn breeze feels nice. Guilt is definitely eating away at him now, thinking about how he yelled at Jongho. God, he hopes San doesn’t come after him to beat his ass to a pulp.

He stops at the side of the walkway, looking up at the golden leaves of the tree above him. A leaf falls onto his shoulder, and he half-smiles as he picks it off his sweater and lets the leaf drift to the ground.

“Hey.”

Hongjoong slowly turns around, and blinks when he sees the man in front of him.

Woohyun looks the same as he did two years ago, just maybe a bit taller and more masculine. He’s still got that dimple that Hongjoong fell in love with, and it makes an appearance as he hesitantly smiles at Hongjoong.

“Woohyun.” Hongjoong says, and there’s no emotion in his voice.

“You look...not so good.” Woohyun runs a hand through his brown hair, and Hongjoong is vaguely reminded of Seonghwa.

Instead of hanging onto that thought, he snorts at the statement. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Woohyun laughs. “Let me guess, working yourself to death again?” There’s no bite to his words like there had been years ago, it was just light teasing between two acquaintances with a long history. Hongjoong allows himself to smile a little.

“The usual.” Hongjoong exhales a deep breath, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You look good.”

His ex just smiles. “It’s going. Might be moving to America soon for a stint.”

Right. Woohyun’s the classic South Korean businessman, tailored suits and crisp pressed white shirts and all. Hongjoong could see him as the male CEO lead of some drama that has a twisted sad past with a heart of stone.

Okay. Maybe not that much, but still.

“That’s pretty cool.” Hongjoong acknowledges.

Woohyun cocks his head, looking like he wants to say more, and oh God it reminds Hongjoong of Seonghwa. It hits right where it hurts, and Hongjoong chokes a little.

“Are you okay?” Woohyun’s by his side, and he lets Hongjoong stop coughing before he asks, “Hongjoong, if you need to talk, I got time to listen.”

“I made a mistake.” Hongjoong coughs again, hitting his chest. “I fucked up, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“What did you do?”

Hongjoong laughs bitterly. “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Woohyun looks at him. “So go ahead.”

Hongjoong sighs. “I fell in love with someone, and I ended up breaking their heart.” It feels even worse to say it out loud, like he’s confirming how much of an asshole he is. “God, Woohyun, why am I such a fuck-up?”

“Hongjoong, hey.” Woohyun’s hand rests on his shoulder. “Hongjoong, you’re not a fuck-up. You’re most definitely not. But wow, I never expected your workaholic ass to fall in love.”

Hongjoong glares at him.

“We _are_ exes.” Woohyun offers as explanation and Hongjoong rolls his eyes.

“Fine, fine, you’re right.” Hongjoong concedes. “But, Woohyun, I really did fuck up. I keep fucking up, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Woohyun stares at him for a minute. 

“What?”

“It’s just funny. You’ve really changed, Hongjoong.” Woohyun half-smiles.

“Changed?” Hongjoong shakes his head. “You said it yourself, I’m still working myself to death. Always have been, that’s probably never going to change.”

Woohyun gives him a look.

“You’re still impossible to deal with, I see.”

_“We are exes.”_ Hongjoong mimics him, and Woohyun smiles.

“I walked into that one.” He admits. “But no, Hongjoong, I meant it, when I said you changed. Don’t you remember when we broke things off?”

Hongjoong may have the memory capability of a fly, but yes, he does remember when they broke things off.

They had gone on a date, in an effort to try and salvage things, but it simply dissolved into another fight. Hongjoong doesn’t remember the details, but he knows it got ugly. 

And he clearly remembers Woohyun’s broken, shattered voice, saying flatly, _“We’re done.”_

Hongjoong exhales, looking at his ex. “Yeah. I remember.”

Woohyun nods. “Exactly. You never tried to fix things. And I don’t blame you.” He shakes his head. “We would have never worked anyways.”

“I suppose so.” Hongjoong remarks.

“But whoever you fucked up with,” Woohyun chuckles as Hongjoong glares at him, “should feel lucky. You’re _trying_ to make things work with them, Hongjoong, and they should honestly feel so lucky, because you’re a great guy, and you deserve to be happy.”

“Do I really? After everything I’ve done?” Hongjoong has to ask.

Woohyun shrugs. “I know you deserve another chance. And this person, I sincerely hope it works out for you.”

Hongjoong smiles. “Thanks. That, that really means a lot.”

His ex smiles back, and for a minute, a part of Hongjoong’s conscience is eased. Woohyun forgives him for their messy split, for the way Hongjoong treated him. And while it’ll never be fully remedied, it gives him peace of mind knowing that they’re at an understanding where neither of them are bitter.

“Need a hug?” Woohyun asks, and Hongjoong laughs.

Hongjoong’s grateful that when Woohyun hugs him, he no longer feels jittery like butterflies have invaded his stomach. He’s moved on, and unfortunately, he’s moved on to a certain man with melted chocolate eyes and a bright smile to rival the sun.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone standing by the walkway, a bit further down by a small coffee kiosk. The person has brightly colored hair, and Hongjoong turns his head to look, because hey, he’s always down to try new hair colors, but when he makes eye contact with the person, he almost starts coughing again.

It’s Seonghwa.

Okay, Hongjoong never thought in his life he’d get to see Seonghwa with blond hair. 

Yet, Seonghwa’s standing there, blond hair swept up in that style Hongjoong’s (unfortunately) grown fond of, and from what Hongjoong’s not-20/20 eyesight can see, there’s an expression of shock on his face.

Great. Mark Kim Hongjoong down as the biggest mistake-maker of the decade, because he’s pretty sure he’s just broken Park Seonghwa’s heart twice.

"Sorry, I have to go." He pushes Woohyun away, and runs. 

Before he knows it, he’s crushed into Seonghwa’s chest, sobbing incoherently. There’s probably passerby staring at them, wondering why the fuck Hongjoong is crying like a baby into a confused Seonghwa’s chest. But he doesn’t care as he clings to the other’s jacket, trying to make out words that won’t come.

“Joong.” He hears, and somehow, that just makes him cry harder. “Joong-ah, look at me.”

Hongjoong looks, and there’s tears gathering in Seonghwa’s eyes as he gazes at Hongjoong. And honestly, Hongjoong doesn’t know how he’s ignored that clear adoration in Seonghwa’s eyes this whole time.

“I’m so sorry!” He rushes, gripping tighter to Seonghwa’s coat like if he lets go, Seonghwa will float away like a lost balloon. “Fuck, Hwa, I’m so sorry about everything, I’m so sorry about Lotte World, I’m so stupid-”

“Hey,” Seonghwa brushes Hongjoong’s hair out of his face, and it only then occurs to Hongjoong that he literally looks like trash and hasn’t showered in days, “you don’t have to apologize. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have tried to-”

“It’s not your fault!” Hongjoong bursts out and Seonghwa looks surprised. “Seonghwa, oh my God, believe me when I say, it’s not your fault. I’m the idiot for pushing you away, for leading you on. I’m so fucking sorry, and I understand if you hate me. But please, just know that I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

Hongjoong wishes he would stop fucking crying. Because as he hiccups and looks at Seonghwa, who’s clearly trying not to cry even as some tears slide down his face, he’s honestly just crying harder.

Instead of saying anything, Seonghwa pulls him closer, stroking his hair softly as Hongjoong sobs. “It’s not your fault, Joong. And even if it was, I forgive you. I mean, how could I not?” Hongjoong looks up, and Seonghwa’s smiling even as there’s still tears running down his face. “I like you too much, I could never hate you.”

Wait. Hold the fuck up.

“You like me?” Hongjoong manages to hiccup through tears. “But, why Seonghwa, I’m not likeable. I’m an asshole, I push people away, I snap at the slightest thing. I fucking yelled at my friends earlier; Seonghwa, I’m not-”

Seonghwa kisses the top of his head, effectively shutting him up. “You’re not an asshole, Hongjoong. You do care about people, you’re just not very good at showing it.” He continues, ignoring Hongjoong’s offended gasp of _hey_. “And when you snap, it’s because you’re stressed. I know you, you take on too much work and end up freaking out because of it.

“So yes, you have your moments, Hongjoong, but that’s just like any other person. I like you for you, otherwise, I don’t know if I’d be okay with falling in love with someone I don’t know.”

Hongjoong’s heart is beating in his throat. He can hear his heartbeat, blood rushing in his ears. Seonghwa likes him. Seonghwa said the L-word. Seonghwa is here, in front of him, smiling down at him like a goddamn angel and _forgiving him_.

He feels a splash on his hand, and he looks up, half expecting it to be just condensation from the lightpost above them. But no, it’s raining, and Hongjoong grimaces as he feels more drops hit his face.

Seonghwa notices, and he laughs. His laugh is like fucking music to Hongjoong’s ears, and Hongjoong allows himself to smile, to which Seonghwa kisses his forehead. “You’re so cute.” He mumbles.

“You like kissing my forehead or something?” Hongjoong wipes the tears from his eyes, and Seonghwa blushes, biting his lip. “You keep doing it.”

“And I’m going to keep doing it.” Seonghwa hesitates. “If you’ll let me.”

Hongjoong tilts his head. “And if I don’t?”

Seonghwa’s arms immediately begin to loosen, so Hongjoong panics and loops his arms around Seonghwa’s neck, effectively making them so close together that Hongjoong can almost feel the older’s heartbeat.

It’s clear neither of them expected it, and Seonghwa’s eyes inadvertently drop down to Hongjoong’s lips. Hongjoong’s brain turns to static.

The rain is coming down harder, and Hongjoong is trying not to look at the way the rain has made Seonghwa’s perfectly styled hair fall apart into a mess, making him look approximately ten times more attractive than usual. Hongjoong’s starting to shiver a little, because _sorry_ he didn’t check the weather forecast today.

“What, you wanna kiss me or something?” He manages to say, what with the fact he can hear blood roaring in his ears and his heartbeat is pumping much too fast for it to be considered healthy.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. “Hm, will you let me?”

Every nerve in Hongjoong’s body is on fire, his kneejerk reaction wanting him to pull away and run. Run like he always does, away from his problems so he doesn’t have to deal with them. But this time he pulls his arms down so that Seonghwa’s face is closer to his, close enough he can feel Seonghwa’s breath. 

He tilts his head, almost as if in challenge. “Only if you kiss me first.”

And that seems to do it, because in less than a second, Seonghwa’s lips are pressed to his.

Every book and movie says that when you kiss someone for the first time, you feel fireworks. Like everything’s exploding, your heart beats fast, and the butterflies in your stomach are on full overdrive.

Hongjoong calls bullshit.

Because kissing Seonghwa, feels like coming home.

It’s hard to explain. Seonghwa’s lips are soft, warm, and comforting, even with the cold rain beating down on both of them, and this is only their first kiss, but Hongjoong is already so fucking addicted to Seonghwa’s kisses. Call him a cheesy romantic, but Hongjoong wouldn’t mind kissing Seonghwa for the rest of his fucking life.

When they break apart, Seonghwa rests his forehead on Hongjoong’s, and Hongjoong smiles, moving his hands to cup Seonghwa’s face. The older winces.

“Your hands are cold.”

“It’s literally raining.”

Seonghwa laughs, shutting his eyes, his arms closing a little tighter around Hongjoong’s waist. “Idiot.” He says fondly.

Hongjoong pinches his cheeks and Seonghwa yelps, looking wounded as Hongjoong chuckles. “I’m your idiot now.” He pauses. “Right?”

Seonghwa’s smile has always been Hongjoong’s favorite. And now, as it makes an appearance, oh, it’s definitely still Hongjoong’s favorite.

“Only if you like me.” Seonghwa teases. “Do you like me, Kim Hongjoong?” It’s said in a playful tone, but there’s an undertone of seriousness. Implying that Hongjoong needs to choose his next words very wisely.

Hongjoong hasn’t been in love for years. Honestly, he forgot what loving someone felt like for a while, until he met Seonghwa. Seonghwa, who likes him for who he is and is everything Hongjoong could possibly want in a partner.

So admitting his feelings now, is going to be crossing a bridge that he can’t look back or run away from. It’s going to solidify that he’s trying again, that he’s allowing himself to believe in love one more time.

He looks at Seonghwa, who looks expectant, a soft smile on his lips. So he exhales, leaning in to quickly kiss the other again.

“Yeah.” He murmurs in between kisses, smiling to himself. “I like you a lot, Park Seonghwa.”

The expression that lights up on Seonghwa’s face, is one Hongjoong is never going to forget.

*******

After everything that had happened in the past week, Hongjoong certainly hadn’t expected to be back in Seonghwa’s apartment so soon.

And he definitely hadn’t expected Park Seonghwa to be pinning him to the inside of the front door, kissing the literal fucking breath out of him and making him forget what anything outside of the older was like.

But he’s not complaining. Not when every kiss Seonghwa gives him is so satisfying, not when every time Seonghwa bites his lip or licks into his mouth makes him whimper and almost buckle to his knees. Because let’s face it, Hongjoong hasn’t kissed anyone let alone made out this intensely with anyone for two years, so every contact Seonghwa makes with him feels like he’s being lit on fire.

Seonghwa’s hands are bigger than Hongjoong’s (he really doesn’t know how he never noticed that) and they slide underneath Hongjoong’s damp sweatshirt. And unfortunately, this makes Hongjoong hyperaware of the fact that he’s gross and disgusting and hasn’t practiced basic self-hygiene for nearly a week.

“Wait, Seonghwa.” He pants, stumbling to push the other away. “Seonghwa.”

The other immediately stops, pulling away. Seonghwa’s lips are shiny red and bitten, and fuck, Hongjoong wants to devour him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” he doesn’t know why he’s blushing all of a sudden, not when he’s had Seonghwa’s tongue down his throat, “can I use your shower first? I literally haven’t showered in days, so uh.”

To his surprise, Seonghwa smirks, folding his arms in front of him. His hair is still wet from the rain still steadily falling outside, and combined with the redness of his lips and the dark of his eyes, it’s an instant kill for Hongjoong’s already-weak heart. “First? Why, Hongjoong-ah, is there something you wanted after?”

Wow okay, yeah Hongjoong’s face burns. 

“Um, not if you don’t want to?” He offers weakly, and Seonghwa’s face morphs into one of concern.

“Do you want to?” His tone is cautious. Like he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries, but little does he know Hongjoong wishes his tongue would stop being tied up for five seconds so he can just beg Seonghwa to fuck him senseless.

He just looks away, desperately trying to will down the blush in his cheeks. “Hey.” Seonghwa’s hands cup his warm cheeks, and he looks up at the other. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

Since Hongjoong has already confirmed that he is so, so fucking whipped for Seonghwa, well, now is the perfect time to reaffirm that he has literally fallen in love with the sweetest man on the planet.

However, he doesn’t want Seonghwa to be _sweet_.

So instead of responding, he grabs Seonghwa’s damp coat collar and yanks him down, eliciting a yelp from the other, and kisses him hard. He immediately pushes his tongue past Seonghwa’s lips, and feels internally satisfied when Seonghwa moans, his hands pressed so firmly into Hongjoong’s waist that Hongjoong thinks he might leave handprints.

Having been caught off-guard, Seonghwa is easily pliant, obviously surprised as Hongjoong practically sucks on his tongue, drawing out noises from the older that has Hongjoong’s head spinning and his heartbeat increasing. It’s so loud that he wouldn’t be surprised if Seonghwa could hear it.

‘Making Out with Park Seonghwa’ is now at the top of the list of ‘Hongjoong’s Favorite Things’, in competition with ‘Sleeping In Until 4PM’. 

“Joong.” Seonghwa gasps, but Hongjoong doesn’t let up. “Joong.” He gently pushes him away. “Are you okay with this?”

It sincerely blows Hongjoong’s mind how he’s still attentive, and caring, and fuck, why was he so stupid before when he could have had Seonghwa all along? Seonghwa continues, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. I’m perfectly fine with just making out with you all day, hell, it doesn’t even have to be that-”

Hongjoong’s had enough. As stated beforehand, Hongjoong has been affection-starved, hell, touch-starved for two years. and now that Seonghwa is here, beautiful and sweet and actually _his_ , he’s cloud fucking nine right now (and a little desperate, but you didn’t hear that from him).

“Park Seonghwa, do I look like I don’t want to do anything?” Hongjoong threateningly jabs a finger into the other’s chest. He gathers a bit of courage and blurts out, “You know what I want? I want you to fuck me.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen, and he chokes. Hongjoong patiently waits as Seonghwa attempts to splutter some form of words out. Maybe Seonghwa is a robot and he’s just broken his programming.

“Wha- okay, yea.” Seonghwa manages to finally respond and Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. “Hongjoong, you can’t just say things like that, christ.”

Hongjoong just shrugs, internally smug at the way Seonghwa looks right now, cheeks dusted pink and biting his already reddened, spit-slick lips. He looks gorgeous.

But it’s like that flips a switch in Seonghwa and he smirks. “Alright, is that what you want?”

Hongjoong stares back, unblinking. “Yeah.” 

Seonghwa steps closer, and it seems like he’s going to pull Hongjoong back in for another kiss, but instead, he surprises Hongjoong by ruffling his hair.

“Then, you should go take a shower, or else I might take you apart right against the front door.”

“You know I’d like that, right?” Hongjoong says without thinking and Seonghwa chokes again, glaring at him as he hits his chest to try and regain air.

“Kim Hongjoong, you are definitely not good for my health.”

******

When Hongjoong gets out of the shower, walking into the adjoining bedroom is all-too familiar. It’s the same bed where he woke up, hungover as hell, and then panicked that he and Seonghwa had ‘accidentally’ had sex. 

He chuckles a little. How ironic.

“What are you laughing at?” 

Hongjoong turns around, and his breath gets caught in his throat. 

To be fair, Seonghwa always looks good, but somehow, he looks even better.

He’s taken off the black raincoat he was wearing earlier, and he’s wearing the restaurant uniform that Hongjoong first saw him in. The black skinny jeans are clinging to his legs thanks to the rain, and the black button-down he’s wearing is rolled up to his elbows and at least four buttons are unbuttoned at the top.

Damn, Hongjoong’s mouth is kinda dry.

All he’s wearing right now is a t-shirt Seonghwa gave him, and literally nothing else save for the towel wrapped around his waist. Why is it that Seonghwa always looks like a model next to him? What kind of genes did this man receive?

“Not laughing at anything.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest. The t-shirt is definitely a bit oversized on him, exposing his collarbones, so crossing his arms is more of a reflex to cover up. “It’s just that last time I was here I was hungover as fuck, and now you’re going to fuck me. Just like, funny stories.”

Seonghwa snorts, walking further into the bedroom, before he’s standing in front of Hongjoong. Hongjoong bitterly notes how defined their height difference is now that he’s not wearing his platform shoes and insoles.

“That’s all you’re thinking about, huh?” His index finger lifts Hongjoong’s chin up to force him to look up at Seonghwa. “Just thinking about how I’m gonna fuck you?”

Well, Hongjoong is absolutely lost for words, so he just nods. 

When their lips meet, it’s insane how normal this already feels for Hongjoong. Kissing Seonghwa is like a second reflex, even though this has only been going on for less than a day. 

But maybe, that proves that this is where Hongjoong was meant to be all along.

Seonghwa bites at Hongjoong’s lips, and Hongjoong moans, knees buckling and he falls into the other, hands pressed to the other’s chest as some sort of grounding. One of Seonghwa’s arms wraps around his waist, and other hand stays on his cheek. 

Hongjoong really loves kissing Seonghwa.

When Seonghwa kisses him, it’s like nothing else exists. Nothing except for the little bubble they create where Hongjoong’s senses are overwhelmed with Seonghwa and Seonghwa only. 

“You’re so pretty, angel.” Seonghwa whispers, his lips trailing down to Hongjoong’s neck, biting and nipping at the unmarked skin. Hongjoong gasps, trying to find anywhere and anything to hold on to, finally settling on Seonghwa’s back. He grips at the fabric, whimpering and moaning the other’s name as Seonghwa works on his neck.

Okay. Okay, _no one_ told him that pet names were going to be involved. And Hongjoong needs to act like Seonghwa hasn’t hit the nail on the head, that back when Hongjoong was recklessly going out to clubs and didn’t have the knowledge that he had now, pet names made him absolutely fucking _weak_.

“Am I?” He manages to get out, letting out a particularly loud moan as Seonghwa kisses a sensitive spot in the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

“Mhm.” Seonghwa hums. “You’re so pretty, always thought you were pretty since day one.”

“Day one where I made a total idiot of myself in front of you?” Hongjoong reminds him.

“Made you cuter.” Seonghwa responds. He straightens up, and Hongjoong prays that the blush he can feel on his cheeks isn’t visible. “Bed?”

Hongjoong nods, and in one easy movement, Seonghwa lifts him up and carries him to the bed behind them, dropping him onto the blankets and crawling on top of him. Their lips meet again, but Hongjoong is still reeling.

“What the fuck,” Hongjoong pants as Seonghwa kisses him breathless, “you never told me you had the strength capability of a fucking wrestler.”

Seonghwa laughs. “I don’t.”

“Then what the fuck was that?”

Hongjoong watches as red colors Seonghwa’s cheeks, and he looks away. He cooes, poking Seonghwa’s cheeks. “Awww, did you want to impress me?”

“Shut up, no I didn’t.” Seonghwa’s ears are red though, and Hongjoong finds it oh-so-endearing.

“Aww, it’s okay.” Hongjoong giggles, pressing a kiss to the corner of Seonghwa’s lips. “Lucky for you, I’m easily impressed.”

“That’s a lie.” Seonghwa says. “How many times did I get texts from you saying that you weren’t impressed by your fiftieth demo in a row at three AM?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Okay fine.” He huffs. “Also, you’ve impressed me enough with that hair.”

Seonghwa cocks his head. “Hair?”

“Yeah, why’d you dye it?” Hongjoong runs his hand through Seonghwa’s hair. It’s still a bit damp from the rain that continues to fall outside, but Hongjoong loves it.

“Ah.” Seonghwa looks embarrassed. “Have you ever been so stressed that you just dye your hair?”

Hongjoong grins widely, pointing to his hair. “Don’t you know why I did this before we went to Lotte World?”

Seonghwa looks surprised, but he smiles. “I dyed my hair the day after that.”

It wasn’t supposed to, but it makes Hongjoong’s heart ache with guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, looking down at the bed.

Seonghwa lifts his face up, pressing a soft kiss to Hongjoong’s pouting lips. “You don’t have to apologize, remember? We’re here now, aren’t we?”

God, he makes Hongjoong _melt_.

Hongjoong nods, pulling on Seonghwa’s collar, and burying his face in his chest. “I still feel like shit for ditching you.”

The older chuckles. “Well you can make it up to me now, hm?” He leans back, and unbuttons his shirt, throwing it to the floor.

And okay, Hongjoong is definitely unprepared for the sight he gets.

Thinking about that one time he fell into Seonghwa, he guesses he shouldn’t be surprised that Seonghwa is somewhat fit. But, here he is, trying (and failing) to conceal his shock that Seonghwa has abs. They aren’t extreme like a bodybuilder or anything, but they’re defined enough that they have Hongjoong’s mouth watering a little. (Hey, he is but a man.)

“You’re hot.” He says without thinking, and Seonghwa blushes deeper red.

“Shut up.”

“No.” Hongjoong sits up to peel his (well, Seonghwa’s) shirt off, but to his surprise, Seonghwa pushes him back down. “What?”

Seonghwa bites his lip. “Keep it on.”

“Wha-” 

“You look cute.”

“Oh okay, you have a kink for me in your clothes. Got it.” Hongjoong smirks, and Seonghwa pouts.

“Not my fault you look good.” He mutters, making Hongjoong blush. Seonghwa then moves away to peel off his jeans, which land in a damp heap on the floor. Hongjoong is sincerely wondering why Seonghwa has the proportions of a model and yet, _isn’t_ a model.

As Seonghwa climbs back onto the bed, Hongjoong pulls the towel off from around his waist, throwing it onto the floor as well. He’s aware that now they’re pretty much exposed to each other, and okay wow, this is absolutely real. He’s going to have sex for the first time in two years. With Park Seonghwa, no less.

Seonghwa stares at him, and Hongjoong shivers a little under his gaze, because Seonghwa kind of looks like he wants to eat him. 

But instead, Seonghwa crawls back on top of him, smiling. “See? You’re so pretty.” One of his hands tentatively lowers to brush over the steadily growing bulge under Hongjoong’s shirt and Hongjoong hisses, hands grasping and crumpling the sheets. “My pretty angel.”

Hongjoong blushes scarlet, hands coming up to cover his face. “Stop.” He whines.

“What?”  
  


“I’m not pretty.” He protests, but Seonghwa just shakes his head.

“Yes you are.” Seonghwa kisses his forehead, and moves further down until he’s situated between Hongjoong’s legs. He pushes them apart, pressing a kiss to Hongjoong’s inner thigh. “Pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty in my clothes.” 

“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong whimpers, fisting at the blankets as Seonghwa marks up his thighs, one of his hands dangerously close to the bulge under his shirt. “Seonghwa.”

“Mhm?” Seonghwa looks at him, and Hongjoong’s heart speeds up at the smirk on his face. 

“Please.” He mumbles. “Please, Seonghwa, want you.”

Seonghwa lifts up Hongjoong’s shirt and exposes his cock, steadily leaking precome, to the air and Hongjoong whimpers as the other takes it in his hand and starts slowly pumping Hongjoong’s cock.

“Seong, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong moans, bucking his hips into Seonghwa’s hand. “Seonghwa, please.”

“Please what, darling?” Seonghwa smirks, still torturously slow in his strokes. 

“Want you.” Hongjoong gasps as Seonghwa rubs the head of his cock, and he arches his back, biting his lip so hard he thinks he might draw blood. “Please, Hwa, want you, please.”

Seonghwa lets go, and Hongjoong chases the contact, bucking his hips into nothing. 

“Be patient, sweetheart.” Seonghwa teases, and oh, every pet name Seonghwa throws at him, Hongjoong greedily takes. It makes his knees weak, the endearing things Seonghwa is calling him.

The older comes back up, reaching into the nightstand next to the bed to fish out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Well. That just confirms that this is really happening.

“Are you still okay with this?” Seonghwa whispers, brushing Hongjoong’s slightly damp hair out of his eyes. Hongjoong hesitates.

Maybe it’s because he’s scared to fuck up. That even though Seonghwa is attracted to him, and thinks he’s cute, Hongjoong’s not going to be good at sex because he hasn’t had it in a while and Seonghwa seems so confident and it’s a little intimidating.

But there’s no reason to be scared. If their past is anything to go by, Seonghwa isn’t the type to judge. He’s the type to help, not stand back and laugh as Hongjoong fumbles. So armed with that knowledge, he takes a deep breath and presses his lips together, before looking up at the man he honestly trusts too much.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He exhales, mentally preparing himself. Seonghwa smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to Hongjoong’s lips, before squeezing the bottle of lube onto his fingers.

“Tell me if it hurts.”

The first finger hurts, yeah, and Hongjoong has to take several deep breaths and a few minutes before they can add another. Luckily for him though, he has a willing, caring lover who kisses him through it and whispers sweet words to him.

“You’re doing well, angel.” Seonghwa praises him as he pushes two fingers in and out of Hongjoong, who’s moaning but also grimacing at the stretch. “Hongjoong, you’re perfect.”

It wavers between pain and pleasure, but it all changes once Seonghwa has three fingers inside Hongjoong and he moves his fingers just _slightly_ to the right.

“Again.” Hongjoong begs, trying to grind down onto Seonghwa’s fingers, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Please, Hwa, again, there, please.”

So Seonghwa does it again, and Hongjoong sobs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Seonghwa, fuck me please, _hyung_.”

Seonghwa chuckles, still thrusting his fingers inside Hongjoong, but purposely missing that spot. “Aww, don’t worry sweetheart, hyung will take care of you.”

“Hyung.” Hongjoong whimpers, giving pleading eyes to his lover. “Please, please I’m ready. Want you.”

Hongjoong doesn’t remember the last time he wanted someone so badly. He also doesn’t remember the last time he also felt taken care of, felt _loved_.

Looking at Seonghwa, there’s an emotion pushing at the walls of his heart, threatening to come out, that he’s been holding back since the very beginning.

Seonghwa pulls his fingers out, and Hongjoong whines at the sudden emptiness. He gives a wounded look to the older, who just laughs and kisses his forehead.

“I’ll fill you back up soon, calm down.”

Hongjoong huffs, even though the words make heat pool in his abdomen and his cock leak more. He watches as Seonghwa takes his boxers off and he’d be lying if he said seeing Seonghwa’s hard cock didn’t make his mouth water. Honestly, if he wasn’t so desperate to get Seonghwa inside of him, he’d love to have that in his mouth.

Seonghwa rolls the condom on, and he moves to hover over Hongjoong, hands placed on each side of the younger’s body. The way Seonghwa looks at him is adoring, and it makes a flush gather on Hongjoong’s cheeks. 

“Ready?” Seonghwa asks softly, drawing Hongjoong out of his thoughts.

Hongjoong nods, and that’s all it takes for Seonghwa to line his cock up with Hongjoong’s entrance, and slowly start to push in.

Seriously, Hongjoong doesn’t know what he did to deserve Seonghwa. Just like when he fingered him, Seonghwa kisses Hongjoong and whispers sweet words as he shallowly thrusts inside.

Once Seonghwa bottoms out, he drops his forehead against Hongjoong’s and breathes out slowly, before capturing his lips in a kiss.

“Are you okay?” Seonghwa asks, and maybe the feeling of dick makes Hongjoong’s brain go out of commission, because what else would make him say:

“I love you.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen. “Joong-” He starts.

“No.” Hongjoong hooks one arm around Seonghwa’s neck and pulls him down. The movement makes Seonghwa’s cock move inside of him, and he bites back a moan. “Seonghwa, I love you. I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry that it took me this long to figure my shit out.”

“And you’re telling me now?” The older laughs, shaking his head.

Hongjoong pouts. “Maybe your dick made me sentimental.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “Please never say that again.”

“If I never say it again, will you fuck me senseless?” Hongjoong gives Seonghwa puppy eyes, an innocent look that contrasts his demand.

Seonghwa draws out, and thrusts back inside, causing both of them to groan. “Does that answer your question?” He laughs breathily, and Hongjoong wants to give a snarky reply, but he can’t, what with the way that Seonghwa’s cock fills him up so well and makes him lose all coherence.

Instead, he just nods, and gasps as each thrust punches air out of his lungs. “Oh, fuck, hyung, fuck, Seonghwa!” He moans as Seonghwa starts a relentless pace.

Hongjoong hasn’t had sex in years with anything but his hands, so he’s overly sensitive to everything Seonghwa does. From the way Seonghwa’s cock drags heavy inside of him, or the way the older looks above him, skin shining with a thin layer of sweat, or the way he continuously swallows up Hongjoong’s moans with bruising kisses.

“I love you.” Seonghwa pants, slowing down, causing Hongjoong to look up. He’s biting his lip, dripping sweat, and his blond hair is catching the rays of sunlight that are breaking through the clouds and streaming into the room. In other words, he’s gorgeous. “I love you, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong smiles. He can feel tears pooling in his eyes, and Seonghwa notices because he gasps. “Hongjoong, are you okay?”

He’s more than okay. For the first time in a long while, he’s happy. He feels loved, cared for, appreciated. He’s ready to burst, so filled with emotions (good ones!) and love for the man above him.

“I’m fine. More than fine.” He wipes his tears. Seonghwa still looks concerned. “Trust me, Hwa, in fact, I’m happy.”

Seonghwa’s face softens, and he presses a soft kiss to Hongjoong’s lips. “I’m happy to know that you’re happy.”

Hongjoong kisses him again, hoping that he can relay all of his emotions within a kiss, because his vocabulary is currently subpar thanks to the dick inside of him. “I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you.” Seonghwa smiles, and it’s brighter than the sunlight pouring into the room. 

“I’ll love you more if you fuck me hard.” Hongjoong grins. The older sighs.

“Hope you know what you’re asking for.” Seonghwa smirks.

Hongjoong presses his lips together. “Why don’t you show me?” He says cockily. In response, Seonghwa just pulls out and slams back in.

Okay, so maybe Hongjoong shouldn’t have challenged him. But Seonghwa pounding into him, making him moan and sob, feels so fucking good so yeah, never mind, this was a good idea.

At some point, Seonghwa switches angles that hits Hongjoong’s prostate dead-on. It’s got Hongjoong almost screaming, fingernails scratching into Seonghwa’s back to try and ground himself through the overwhelming pleasure.

Hongjoong’s cock hurts; it’s leaking and the more Seonghwa fucks into Hongjoong, the more sensitive he gets. His shirt has ridden up, so he reaches down and starts to jerk himself off at the same pace Seonghwa is relentlessly pounding him with.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” Seonghwa hisses, and Hongjoong just whimpers at the low, gravelly tone of his voice. “Hongjoong, you’re so perfect, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Hongjoong gasps. The heat in his abdomen is coiling up like a tight wire, preparing to snap at any minute. “Hyung, Seonghwa, I’m going to come-”

Seonghwa just thrusts into him harder, leaning down to seal their lips together in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. The coil snaps, and Hongjoong cries out, gripping the sheets as his eyes roll back and streaks of white paint his shirt and Seonghwa’s skin.

When Hongjoong comes down, Seonghwa’s panting, looking down at him with so much love and adoration that it makes a weird fuzzy feeling push its way into Hongjoong’s hazy post-orgasm brain.

“What?” He manages to say.

“Nothing.” Seonghwa smiles. “You just look really good when you come.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Shut up, weirdo.”

“Okay, okay.” Seonghwa pushes his sweaty hair back with one hand. Hongjoong follows the movement. “Sorry, I forgot. You always look good.”

Hongjoong flicks him. “Just keep fucking me.”

Seonghwa obliges and a few moments later, his head falls onto Hongjoong’s chest as he comes, moaning some form of Hongjoong’s name. After, he pulls out of Hongjoong and rolls onto the side, taking off the condom and tying it, throwing it somewhere Hongjoong can’t be bothered to look up and see.

Both of them lie there, too tired to move. Seonghwa’s the first to speak.

“Should we get up?”

“No.”

“But you’re sticky. I’m sticky.”

“Could care less.” Hongjoong mumbles, moving to nuzzle his head into Seonghwa’s neck. “Cuddle me.”

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa complains, but his arms come to wrap around Hongjoong’s body anyways.

“Five minutes.” Hongjoong offers. Seonghwa sighs, but if Hongjoong were to look up, he would see a fond smile on Seonghwa’s face.

“Five minutes.” Seonghwa finally agrees, kissing the top of Hongjoong’s head. “I love you.”

“Love you.”

They don’t get up until the next morning, and Hongjoong jumps on Seonghwa in the shower. Both of them have to take a shower again.

\------

“Hyung, what is this?” Jongho is staring at Hongjoong warily, holding the box in his hands at arm’s length, like it was a bomb set to detonate at any second.

“Jongho, I’m sorry.” Hongjoong bites his lip. “I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday, so here.” He points to the box. “Open it. And I swear it’s not a bomb.”

The soloist gives him a weird look, obviously still on edge, but he opens it anyways.

Inside is a shiny USB, wrapped in a piece of painter’s tape with words hastily scratched onto it.

“What’s this? I thought you said it wasn’t a bomb.” Jongho still looks suspicious.

“Read it.”

Jongho takes it out of the box, and looks at it.

On it are the words, _“WITH U - DEMO”_.

He looks up. “Oh my God. ...Hyung, is this??”

Hongjoong smiles at the shocked look on the younger’s face. “Yep. That’s the demo for your song.”

Jongho’s face lights up, even though he’s clearly trying to hold his smile at bay.

“Wanna go listen to it?” Hongjoong gestures towards his studio. The door is swung open, and they can faintly hear the chatter of Yunho, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yeosang from inside.

Jongho nods, his eyes sparkling, and Hongjoong smiles. “Go inside. I’ll be there in a bit.”

As the soloist leaves (Hongjoong can tell he’s trying not to run), he feels a body drop onto his back. 

“Hongjoong.”

He turns to look at Seonghwa, who’s hanging off his neck and giving him puppy-dog eyes. Trying to seem unaffected, he looks away. “What, Hwa.”

“I don’t wanna go to work.” Seonghwa whines, and Hongjoong glares at him.

“Oh I’m sorry, at least your ass isn’t hurting.”

“You’re the one who jumped on me this morning in the shower!” Seonghwa argues. Hongjoong just sticks his tongue out. He gently pushes the older off his back, but turns to press himself into Seonghwa’s chest.

“You love me, remember?” Hongjoong says and Seonghwa twists his mouth. “You loooove me~” He pokes Seonghwa’s cheek, tangling one of his hands into the other’s fluffy blond hair. 

“Keep it up and I won’t.” Seonghwa retorts, and Hongjoong pouts. 

“Not even if I give you a kiss good-bye?” He bats his eyelashes comically. 

Seonghwa pretends to think. “Maybe.”

So Hongjoong gets up on his toes, and presses a kiss to Seonghwa’s lips. When he pulls away, Seonghwa grabs him and crashes their lips together again.

Hongjoong prays to God that no poor trainee will walk in on them shamelessly making out in the hallway. 

Seonghwa bites at Hongjoong’s bottom lip, and the producer stifles a moan, pushing the other off. “Yah, who do you think you are?”

“I’m your boyfriend.” Seonghwa says smugly. “And I have the privilege of kissing my boyfriend wherever I want.”

“Not in _public_ , idiot.” Hongjoong huffs, and Seonghwa just pouts.

And honestly, Hongjoong has always been weak when it comes to Seonghwa. So he puckers his lips, trying to look annoyed. “Fine. Kiss me, you weirdo.”

Seonghwa happily complies, pressing soft kisses to Hongjoong’s forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips. “I love you so much.” He mumbles.

“I love you too.” Hongjoong will never admit it out loud, but he finds Seonghwa so, so adorable. And the words still feel foreign on his tongue, but somehow, he thinks he’ll get used to it quite quickly.

“I’ll see you after work?” And Seonghwa’s eyes are sparkling, just like they did the day that they met, and Hongjoong’s heart does a weird little jumpy thing.

He drags Seonghwa down for one last kiss, not breaking apart until he hears Mingi’s loud voice, “Hey hyung! Stop sucking face and get in here so we can listen to the demo!”

“Shut up!” Hongjoong yells back and Seonghwa chuckles.

“Guess you should get going.”

“And you should get going.”

They both look at each other, and Hongjoong looks down to hide his smile.

“Five PM.” He finally says, looking up. He’s so lucky, he knows, to have Park Seonghwa here, in his arms, looking at him like Hongjoong was the only the star in solar system. “Five PM, you better come pick me up, Park.”

“Are you doubting me?” Seonghwa smirks. “Of course, I’ll do anything for my _darling boyfriend_.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “You’re a weirdo.”

“ _Your_ weirdo.” Seonghwa corrects.

Hongjoong looks at his boyfriend, all smug smiles with a hint of laughter in his eyes, and smiles, so brightly that he knows his teeth are showing and he kind of hates it but he’s so happy. For the first time in over two years, he’s truly happy.

Seonghwa looks shocked for a second, but he recovers and chuckles. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up!” Hongjoong’s face is on fire, and he pushes Seonghwa away. “Go to work, weirdo.”

“I’ll see you at five!” Seonghwa yells behind him as he rushes out of the building, and Hongjoong shakes his head, even though he’s smiling. 

Later, as he’s listening to the demo with his friends, waving off the compliments they’re heaping onto him, the lyrics that he wrote in a scramble this morning when he got to work stick out to him the most. The lyrics he wrote thinking about Seonghwa. His lover. His boyfriend. His chance.

His new beginning.

_Remember, the moment, these feelings_

_Remember this space and our promise_

_Remember the tracks_

_Remember the tremor_

_Remember, remember_


	6. Epilogue

It’s warm, and there’s a body pressed against Hongjoong’s back, trapping him in. The room is bright, filled with sunlight that’s streaming in through a half-opened window, spring breeze filtering through an opaque white curtain. The white walls are blindingly bright in the new light, and tiny polaroids flutter on the wall in the gentle wind.

In other words, it’s Hongjoong’s home.

“Mm, Joong.” A voice murmurs, bringing him out of his thoughts. He manages to twist around and place a soft gentle kiss onto a pair of pretty pink lips that he knows all too well.

“Good morning, love.” Hongjoong whispers, and Seonghwa cracks one eye open, a smile spreading on his lips. Hongjoong smiles back, and buries his face into the other’s neck.

It’s comfortable, mornings with Seonghwa, in which neither of them want to get up and they stay in bed until the very last minute that they can, basking in each other’s presence and warmth.

“Don’t wanna get up.” Seonghwa mutters as Hongjoong tries to pull away, as he always does, because maybe today will finally be the day he stops apologizing to the parking attendant in the garage for being a little late. Seonghwa’s arms come to wrap around him tighter, squeezing him. “Stay here with me.”

Hongjoong can quite never get over the deep scratchiness of Seonghwa’s morning voice, and the fact that it never fails to send an electric shock straight down his spine and right to his di-

“I have work, and you have a project to work on. Come on, get up.” Hongjoong chuckles, wriggling out of Seonghwa’s grasp. The other whines petulantly.

“Can’t we just stay in bed and make out all day?” Seonghwa pouts, giving Hongjoong his best puppy-dog eyes that usually coerce the other to do whatever he wants for him. Usually he gives in, what with the way his eyes are big and tempting underneath his wavy black hair but today Hongjoong just smiles fondly at his husband, reaching out to lace their fingers together.

When their fingers meet, Hongjoong hears the clinking of their wedding rings, silver against gold.

“You wish.” He chides. Seonghwa’s pout just grows deeper and Hongjoong begrudgingly lifts himself up to check the time.

It’s eight AM, meaning he’s got time. He can get away with being a little bit late for nine AM, as always. And Seonghwa’s puppy dog eyes always get what they want.

He sighs, throwing his head back dramatically. “Okay, fine, we can stay in bed for a little bit.”

“And make out?” Seonghwa asks hopefully. Hongjoong glares at him.

“What is with you and kissing me?”

“I like kissing you.” Seonghwa smiles and Hongjoong feels another cupid’s arrow pierce his heart.

“Alright, you whiny brat.” He half-admonishes, half-concedes, and scoots closer to Seonghwa, lifting himself up to press his lips to his husband’s.

Seonghwa makes a noise of content and Hongjoong laughs, nuzzling their noses together as he smiles. “I love you.” He whispers and Seonghwa hums, one hand sliding up to cup Hongjoong’s face. 

“I love you too.” Seonghwa responds, his thumb rubbing circles gently on the other’s face. Hongjoong leans into Seonghwa’s touch, smiling contently.

They kiss for a little while longer, until Hongjoong can feel something digging into his thigh. He pulls away, raising an eyebrow at his husband.

“You need help with something?”

Seonghwa blushes. “Shut up.” He starts scooting away, but Hongjoong grabs him and yanks him back. 

Hongjoong internally cooes at the adorably confused look on Seonghwa’s face, but he just leans in, connecting their lips again. He licks at Seonghwa’s lips, ego boosting at the way Seonghwa opens up for him easily. “You know we have a half hour right?” He chuckles. “So if you want-”

In a moment, Seonghwa’s hovering above him, pinning him down on the mattress. His white t-shirt hangs loosely off his body, and Hongjoong slides his hands underneath the thin fabric, because hey, this is his husband and he can touch his abs any time he fucking pleases.

“Someone’s eager.” Hongjoong teases and Seonghwa smiles sheepishly, his hand going to brush through Hongjoong’s messy brown hair. 

“It’s hard to hold back when it comes to you.” He admits, and Hongjoong feels warmth rush through his body at the admission. It’s been years and yet, every sweet word Seonghwa says to him has Hongjoong blushing and squirming.

“Ah really?” He grins, tugging at Seonghwa’s loose shirt. “Then come kiss me, loser.”

His husband rolls his eyes, but complies anyways, lowering himself to sweetly press his lips to Hongjoong’s.

Hongjoong smiles into the kiss, giggling as Seonghwa smiles too, his left hand moving to entwine their hands. Kissing Seonghwa will always be on Hongjoong’s top five favorite things list, probably even number one on the list. Seonghwa always tastes like strawberries and Hongjoong sometimes wonders if strawberries have an addictive chemical in them or something.

Maybe he’s just really addicted to Seonghwa.

It’s been two years since they got married, a small ceremony on Jeju Island with their friends and family. Hongjoong endured a lot of nagging and teasing from Wooyoung, Yeosang, Yunho, and Mingi that day. However, it doesn’t affect that that was probably the best day of Hongjoong’s life. He’ll never forget kissing Seonghwa right next to the ocean, laughing as Seonghwa cried during their vows and basically the entire ceremony.

It’s been two years, and Hongjoong wouldn’t give those two years up for the world.

Seonghwa pulls away first, breathless and resting his forehead on Hongjoong’s, closing his eyes so that his eyelashes tickle Hongjoong’s skin. Hongjoong closes his eyes, moving to press a kiss to the corner of Seonghwa’s reddened lips.

“I’m so in love with you.” Seonghwa whispers, and for a second, Hongjoong freezes, because doesn’t know what to say.

Three years ago, Hongjoong was determined to never give love another chance again. His plan was to grow old with a plethora of cats or dogs and maybe Yunho, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yeosang if he was lucky. Dating was off the table, and by extension, marriage.

But here Seonghwa is, messy jet black hair hanging over his sparkling brown eyes, golden skin glowing in the morning sun, a shiny silver ring on his left ring finger, telling Hongjoong that  _ he loves him _ .

It’s overwhelming, to say the least.

He turns his head, avoiding Seonghwa’s eyes. “Fuck, Hwa, you can’t just say things like that.”

“Like what?” 

“That you love me and shit like that. This is a dream right? I’m gonna wake up alone and sad again and-“

Seonghwa’s hand cups his cheek, forcing him to look at him, and there’s a fond smile on his face.

“I can assure you this isn’t a dream, Joong.” He kisses his forehead. “But if it is a dream, then I’m really not complaining because it’s been quite a nice dream.”

Hongjoong blushes. Yep, Seonghwa still makes him so, so weak. “I love you so much.” He murmurs and Seonghwa smiles, touching their foreheads together. 

Marriage used to be something that Hongjoong scoffed at. Something he didn’t believe in, something he didn’t think was ever in wait for him. But as he looks up at Seonghwa, who has all the stars and more in his eyes, he wonders why he ever scoffed at it in the first place (capitalism, probably). Being married to Seonghwa, is all of his domestic fantasies come true. 

“You should ride me.” Seonghwa breaks the comfortable silence. When Hongjoong looks at him, he’s smirking. 

“Asshole.” Hongjoong flicks the older’s forehead. “What, now that you’re thirty, I have to do all the work?”

His husband sticks his tongue out. Hongjoong shakes his head at the other’s childishness, but he pushes Seonghwa over (the older spluttering a “hey!”) and climbs on top of him, straddling his waist.

Seonghwa’s eyes are shining as he looks up at Hongjoong, his black hair fanned out over the white sheets. A smile grows on his lips, and Hongjoong finds himself smiling back.

“The things I do for you.” He scoffs instead of dwelling on the romantic atmosphere. Seonghwa sits up, arms wrapping around Hongjoong’s waist.

“You love me.” Seonghwa says, and doesn’t wait for a reply before he kisses Hongjoong, and the younger melts.

It’s mornings with Seonghwa that make Hongjoong realize that he wouldn’t give any of this up for the world. Makes him realize how lucky he is, but also makes him realize that all those years spent wallowing in his single-ness and despair weren’t worth it.

However, it’s those years he spent in self-pity that dragged out his life that led him to Seonghwa.

So maybe, it was worth it in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ! okay ! it's 3 am ! wow ! thank you so much for reading this, this is the longest thing i've ever written so i pretty much went insane trying to finish this over the past few days lmao . next week is finals week , so i'm going to have fun with that (not) . anyways . i know this story is extremely cheesy and cliche , but i sincerely hope you enjoyed it :) also if you didn't catch it , the song hongjoong and jongho write is the ateez song 'with u' ! if you haven't listened to that , you really should because as a yeosang stan , i'm obsessed with it .
> 
> i'll shut up now , but again , thank you so much for reading !!! i appreciate every single one of you and if i could give all of you a cookie i would :)
> 
> twt: @ treasureyeo
> 
> EDIT: sorry it's taking me so long to reply to comments ㅠㅠ i've been busy w finals and i got one more paper left so s t r e s s


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